The Just Rewards
by Aldea Donder
Summary: UPDATED AT LAST! The clock ticks steadily down to doomsday as Jafar and the Serpentine Legion close in on the capital. The Seven Deserts face enemies from without and within while Iago continues wrangle with his own personal demons.
1. The Just Rewards

**The Just Rewards** by Aldea Donder

Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for any of the characters or places expressed hereafter in this writing with the exception of Jazel and Leon. The city of D'jel belongs to Dragonessa and is used with her permission. Everything else is the property of the Walt Disney Company.

Summary: This story takes place approximately eight years after Aladdin and the King of Thieves. Jafar has returned and won control of Agrabah. Iago has been taken prisoner, and he survives only at the whim of his greatest enemy. This story borrows some of its ideas from Catie Graham's _The Truth About Iago_. Read it as soon as you can; it's fantastic.

---

**Chapter One:** The Just Rewards

"How about another round, Iago?"

Iago drew back to the farthest corner of his cage. He shook uncontrollably, the agony of the last bout of torture still simmering throughout him. Every part of him ached, from the tips of his wings to the ends of his tail feathers. He had endured hours of this torment. Hours upon hours that ticked by with such slowness that he wondered whether the pain had perverted his perception of time. And still, the torment persisted, getting worse and worse after each and every pause. Jafar would not let it stop. Jafar was not that merciful.

"Well, Iago? Shall we have another go at it?"

"No, Jafar. Not again. Just let me _die,_" Iago coughed.

"Trust me, my dear Iago! Your death will come eventually. Of course, when it does come, it will be slow... and excruciatingly _painful!_"

On that word, another wave of anguish washed over Iago, and like a pebble in a raging river, he felt himself dissolving before it. His mind, his body, his very soul - all melted away in the blaze of Jafar's punishment.

Long forgotten memories awakened within him. He saw his parents. He saw the disgust in their eyes as they looked at him. They realized he was different than his brothers from the moment he was born, and they detested him for it. He saw himself trying to please them, trying to live up to their expectations, even though it was a frivolous effort. He saw them trying to disguise him, to hide him from the inquisitive eyes of the others.

"No! _Stop it,_ Jafar! _Stop it!_"

He sat all alone in the middle of the desert. His mother had brought him here to this empty wasteland and left soon afterward, promising to return soon with food. He waited hours for her return, until night drifted into day and the heavens above turned from black to blue to black again. And he suffered: unbearably cold temperatures during the evening, piercing hunger and unquenchable thirst throughout the day, and once the truth set in, the terrifying realization that he had been abandoned.

He strayed aimlessly through the streets of Agrabah. For days, ever since he had found his way here, he had lived in poverty, feeding off the crumbs and table scraps that people threw away and sleeping in the meager shelter of alleyways and attics. Now, he watched a family as they walked hand-in-hand down the lane. Watched as they stepped into the warmth and comfort of a home. Watched as they sat down together at the dinner table and feasted on a grand meal. Watched as the mother rested with her son next to the hearth and, purely out of her love for the boy, read him a bedtime story. He felt a tear on his cheek and forced himself to look away.

He was in the company of a man. Jafar. He was drawn in by the sorcerer's promise of a better life if only he would embrace a "more ambitious" way of thinking. A more _poisonous_ way of thinking. But Iago showed no concern over which way his life was heading. Why should he care if other people were harmed by his actions? They had never given him any of the things Jafar promised him. They had abandoned him, left him homeless with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Even though Jafar scared him to death, at least he had someone to look out for him when he was with him - a partner, so to speak. He saw himself hanging on Jafar's every word. He saw himself being corrupted by Jafar's malevolence.

_Wait a minute! Jafar, what if YOU were the chump husband? Okay, you marry the princess, right? And then, YOU become Sultan! And then, we drop papa-in-law and the little woman off a cliff, kersplat!_

Iago had long forgotten ever speaking those words. He had let much of his past go when he had befriended Aladdin. But now, the past came rushing back to him like a viper in the night, ushered on by Jafar's magic - and it brought a stinging truth with it.

_Murder? Murder _Jasmine and the Sultan? The very idea that he could ever suggest something so - so repulsive, so atrocious, so shamefully despicable, led him to wonder just what demons lurked within his wretched soul. Jasmine and the Sultan had taken him in! They had given him all that he had been denied in his youth: a home, a family, and a reason to live. They had shown him nothing but kindness! And he had suggested that they be murdered?

He was a _fiend!_ An _abomination_ devoid of goodness and compassion! He was _base!_ He was _foul!_ How could he ever have believed himself to be worthy of their friendship? How could he ever have thought himself to be anything more than the lowly disgrace he truly was?

The memories surged on. He watched with unbridled satisfaction as the Royal Guard kidnapped Aladdin and threw him into the sea, presumably to his death. He lured Aladdin away from his chamber by imitating Jasmine's voice, then stole the magic lamp from him to further serve Jafar's cruel intentions. He tormented the Sultan, harassing and humiliating the monarch until he gasped for breath.

And oh, how he had betrayed Cassim!

"Stop it, Jafar! Please! Please, Jafar! Make it stop!"

_Fiend! Abomination! Base! Foul_! The words played over and over again inside his head. He had never been a help to those around him; he had only been an obstacle, an enemy, a threat. He didn't care about any of his friends. He was only concerned with what would profit him the most in the long run. For all that they had given him, he gave nothing in return. For all the love they had shown him, he showed no gratitude. He lied, thieved, and betrayed for his own advancement. He put his own lofty goals in front of their vital needs. But they refused to condemn him. They trusted him, supported him, and offered him something he had never possessed before: friendship. Why? He was worthless! He didn't deserve to be shown the affection he had not shown others. He didn't deserve a home, a family, or the right to live. He deserved to be exactly where he was: imprisoned in Jafar's cage.

He was crying. No, not crying - wailing in utter despair. Iago writhed on the floor of his prison, overwhelmed by the cold reality of his own life. The melancholy, the wretchedness, the trials and tribulations - they dashed all his hopes like water upon the rocks and sent him reeling in horror. His organs were snakes coiling inside him. His heart ached not from the aftermath of Jafar's torture, but from his own sickening iniquity.

Jafar's cruel laughter surrounded him, and he was chilled to the core. "It always hurts more when the pain comes from within, doesn't it, Iago?" the jailor sneered.

Iago was too weak to respond. He remained spread out upon the floor of the cage, sobbing and convulsing, unable to look Jafar in the eye.

Jafar observed this and chuckled. "This is but one way to torture you, my dear Iago," he said. "There are many other ways. Many of them are just as agonizing as this. And I intend to try each and every one of them out on you.

"Well, I think that's just about enough fun for one day. It's getting late, and though I'll never tire of being able to cause you pain, I want to be up bright and early tomorrow to get a head start on the day's torture session. I bid thee goodnight, Iago, and pleasant dreams!"

With that, Jafar took his leave. His maniacal laughter reverberated throughout the hall for minutes after he'd gone. When it stopped, the room was silent, save for the ceaseless weeping of one distraught parrot.


	2. Reveries and Rendezvous

**The Just Rewards** by Aldea Donder

Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for any of the characters or places expressed hereafter in this writing with the exception of Jazel and Leon. The city of D'jel belongs to Dragonessa and is used with her permission. Everything else is the property of the Walt Disney Company.

Summary: This story takes place approximately eight years after Aladdin and the King of Thieves. Jafar has returned and won control of Agrabah. Iago has been taken prisoner, and he survives only at the whim of his greatest enemy. This story borrows some of its ideas from Catie Graham's _The Truth About Iago_. Read it as soon as you can; it's fantastic.

---

**Chapter Two:** Reveries and Rendezvous

The laboratory was a place of malice. Its cold, stone walls, bathed in a hellish glow by the light of the many red-paneled lanterns dangling overhead, echoed with the screams of the legions of innocents the Royal Guard had captured and imprisoned there to be tortured for Jafar's own perverse amusement. Torture devices lined the walls: racks, iron maidens, pillories, and shelves upon shelves of forks and thumbscrews. The shackles that confined the prisoners when Jafar wasn't around to persecute them were presently empty. Jafar had had his fun for the day. But the stale air still carried the stench of death, for he had just murdered again last night.

But shackles were too good for Iago. When he wasn't being tortured himself, he was pushed up against a bare stretch of wall, where silver nails were driven through his outstretched wings. The process would have been excruciating by itself if Jafar didn't take added delight in chaining iron bars to the parrot's talons. The weight turned the otherwise severe punishment into something out of a nightmare. The bones in Iago's wings were broken, muscles and ligaments were torn throughout, and the untreated injuries from past nails were so numerous, it was impossible to tell the vibrant red of his feathers from the blood that streamed from his wounds.

The nails were never driven into the same spot. Jafar always seemed to find a more tender area the next time he hung Iago up on the wall. And the weights seemed to get progressively heavier as the days passed, putting increased burden on the his wings and making the damage the nails did even more critical. There were times when Iago wanted to yell out from the agony of his predicament. But he did not, because he knew that if he did, Jafar would be there in a flash to introduce Iago to a new degree of torture, or at least to add another bar.

The center of the room was dominated by a collaboration of gears and axels, which supplied power to all of Jafar's other contraptions. Massive sprockets turned into other massive sprockets, water boiled by the heat of a furnace, gusts of steam erupted from pipes like breath on a chilly morn... The entire process was a marvel to behold. When he wasn't blindfolded (for Jafar loved to cover Iago's eyes and leave him with nothing but his own pain to think about), Iago studied the machine and tried to figure out how it worked. It was a useless effort, of course, as Jafar would never explain whether or not he was correct. But it was the closest thing to a hobby he had. It entertained him and took his mind off the constant torment he underwent, and most important of all, it kept his sanity alive. Reasoning out how the machine worked gave Iago a purpose in life and forced him to use logic, without which he knew he would have gone mad long ago.

Not that his captor wasn't doing his best to make him that way. Jafar had been truthful when he'd promised his methods of torture would make his life a living hell. Iago was uncertain how long he'd been a prisoner in this godforsaken pit, for Jafar had ordered the laboratory's solitary window blocked and barricaded to prevent his prisoner from ever catching a glimpse of the outside world ever again. But to him, ten lifetimes seemed to have passed since he'd arrived here. And still, he continued on in this surviving, yet not-quite-living state.

There was not a single torture device in the room that Iago hadn't been formally acquainted with. Every day, Jafar would amble into the laboratory, take Iago from his spot on the wall, and proceed to subject him to the backbreaking rending of the rack or the suffocating weight of the pressing machine. Boiling oil and slow poisons were also high on the list. Some of Jafar's methods were crude, such as lashing him with a whip or leisurely slicing various parts of his body open with a razor. Other punishments were slow and long-term. Iago, for instance, hadn't been fed at all in eight days.

But none of the punishments could compare to the inner torment Jafar had inflicted upon him on his first day of imprisonment, for it was that punishment which had broken him.

Iago often found himself looking back upon what he had seen and experienced in that onslaught of cold, hard truth. What had seemed like an eternity of brutal revelations had only been a little over three minutes in actuality, but the implications those three minutes carried were devastating. Devastated - it was the only word that could sum up how Iago felt, really. Devastated that he was such a sick and appalling individual. Devastated that he had worked against Aladdin even as the street rat had extended a hand of friendship to him. Devastated that he had ever believed himself to be worth that hand or the amity it relayed.

_Hahaha! I love the way your foul little mind works!_

A foul little mind that had vigorously served Jafar's every want and need. A foul little mind that had stolen the magic lamp from Aladdin and willingly given it to Jafar to be used to realize his nefarious plot. A foul little mind that had helped Jafar return from exile and launch another scheme to conquer Agrabah. A foul little mind that had almost caused the deaths of all his friends countless times over.

_You see? You do have a heart. An itty-bitty one, but it is there._

He had a heart, certainly. A heart so overcome by greed that he made his own luxurious desires a higher priority than the lives and health of his friends. A heart so polluted with selfish ambition that he wouldn't even risk his life for those who would so dutifully give theirs to save his. A heart that led him to turn his back on Cassim at D'jel when he needed him most.

_You're so perfectly predictable - a villain through and through._

Predictable. He could always be counted on to betray his friends should it become more profitable to serve their enemies. How quickly he had turned his back on Aladdin when Jafar had appeared and presented him with the prospect of revenge! If his treachery wasn't villainous, he didn't know what was. In any matter, he didn't deserve any friends. He deserved to be punished for his crimes.

And so, Iago took a strange solace in being Jafar's prisoner, in being in a constant state of misery and anguish. No matter what transgressions Jafar committed against him, he had earned every single one of them. And so, the torment continued, day in and day out.

And time went on.

---

For the most part, the days of Iago's subjugation were all the same. Iago knew exactly what horrors he had to look forward to each day. That wasn't to say, however, that Jafar wasn't capable of throwing out a wild card every now and then.

It was a day like any other when the first was dealt to him. Iago was concentrating on the machine in his never-ending quest to deduce how it worked and was beginning to piece together how the steam made the pistons move when the southernmost passageway of the laboratory was thrown open. The door slammed against the wall, filling the room with a thunderous _CLANG_. The noise, combined with Iago's trepidation of what was to come, evicted all such rational thought from his mind.

He hung his head and shut his eyes, as he always did. He still clung to the hope that Jafar might take him for dead on one of these occasions. It never worked, of course. Jafar saw through his ruse every time, and Iago had a feeling Jafar would continue to desecrate his body even if he did die, anyway. Still, what did he have to lose?

He could feel Jafar's footsteps on the barren stone as he drew nearer, now. He could feel his enemy's icy breath on his blood-soaked cheek. He could feel his cruel, snakelike eyes peering straight through him, deep into the chasm of his soul.

_As pathetic as my soul is, he should feel right at home there,_ Iago thought bitterly. Then, he mentally slapped himself. _The damned shouldn't judge the damned,_ he chided.

"Open your eyes, Iago. You're being rude to our guests."

A young girl stood beside Jafar. And there in her hands, held within a crystal ball identical to the one he had shattered so many years before, was Genie.

Iago could do nothing but gape. Genie, too, seemed perturbed by the situation. He stared in shock at the parrot for quite some time. Then, his expression turned to one of fury, and he cast a menacing glare toward Jafar. But Genie's anger did nothing to phase his captor, who swept the prison orb out of the little girl's hands and hung it from a chain that dangled from the ceiling before Iago could say a word.

Jafar smiled down at Genie, who gazed accusingly back. "You stupid blue imbecile," Jafar said. "You really believed you could evade me? It was only a matter time, as I've told you so many times in the past! You have exceedingly underestimated me - _again!_ Though I'm not sure how that's possible. It was _you_ who made me into this, wasn't it? Who made me into an all-powerful genie? You _pathetic fool!_"

Genie sobered at this, but was unrelenting in his defiance.

Jafar patted the glass of Genie's prison orb and sighed contentedly. "But none of that matters now," he mused. "You are nothing but a trophy now. You and your pathetic little band are nothing but animals to be hunted, slaughtered, and showcased for my personal gratification - just like this one."

He stepped over to Iago, who found it difficult to break his astonished gaze with Genie. Ever so gently, Jafar tickled him under his beak, diverting the parrot's attention to the former vizier's murderous eyes.

"Having a good day, Iago?" Jafar said sweetly.

"Peachy," Iago muttered.

"So, Iago, what do you think of my little prize? I won't be able to torture him, I'm sorry to say. I would have to remove him from his orb to do that, and that would mean taking an unnecessary risk. Ah, well. Life goes on. I suppose I'll just have to be twice as hard on you to compensate. What do you think of that, hmm?"

Iago stared quietly down at the ground. A thick layer of dust had settled on the stone floor. Two beetles were scurrying across it in the wake of Jafar's footsteps. They made a path as they moved, and Iago could see they had come from a crack in the bottom of the east wall -

"You're speechless, I see," Jafar hissed. "That's not like you at all. But then, I suppose speech is a luxury for the condemned. It's time you were served your just rewards, Iago. You have earned what you have coming to you, you pitiful, worthless traitor!"

_Traitor._

"ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"

Jafar hadn't even bothered to pull out the nails. He'd simply grabbed Iago's mangled wings and ripped him from his spot. Crimson flashed before his eyes as the nails shattered bones and chewed through muscles and ligaments, and he howled from the agony of it all. Then, out of nowhere, he was being hurled across the room. He heard the air rushing by his head, drowned out by the pounding of his own heart. His vision was a blur of colors and shapes. He had to flap - he had to fly! But the pain in his wings was too much, and just as suddenly as he had found himself careening through the air, he slammed headfirst into a granite table and skidded to a halt.

His grip on consciousness was weakening, but he managed to hold on. Dazed, he lifted his head in a futile attempt to figure out what was going on. He thought he'd been attacked - how did he get here again? Then, his eyes came to rest on his wings. He gagged. The nails were still there, sticking awkwardly out of his feathers, drenched in blood and wrapped with sinew.

_A traitor... to Cassim… to Aladdin... to Jasmine..._

Jafar was there. He picked up Iago by the neck and slammed him into the table. Again and again, his skull cracked against the stone slab, and again and again, he managed to cling to consciousness. Why? Why was he still awake, still alive? He should be dead. He didn't deserve to live. And he didn't have time to ponder such thoughts, for Jafar was there again. He smashed him into the table one final time, and Iago was able to breathe freely for again for a matter of seconds before he found himself with fifty pounds of crushing weight on top of his battered chest. At once, he recognized where he was - the pressing machine, the devious device that squeezed the life out of its victims through sheer force of gravity. And from the feel of it, the machine was doing its job. The weight on his chest was staggering. There was a terrible pain in Iago's lungs and he was sure his ribs would break. But they didn't. Again, he wondered why. Why couldn't he just give up? Why couldn't he just die?

_A traitor to Genie... to the Sultan... to Carpet and Abu... a traitor..._

There was a biting, searing pain on his face! On his wings! On his beak! On his talons! Iago yelped, letting precious air escape. What was going on? More pain! More agony! His vision blurred. He could barely make out Jafar above him trickling something onto his body, drip by drip. Was it water? Iago could use some water right about now. He was thirsty beyond words - _pain!_ Acid! It had to be! Fiery acid piercing his body like a thousand needles upon a single spot! He had to get out. He had to break free! But the weight on his chest made any attempt at escape inconsequential. He thrashed and flailed, but his struggles proved to be nothing more than a waste of breath, and all the while Jafar loomed overhead, raining even more acid down on Iago's crippled body.

Then, the weight was gone. The flow of acid ceased. Iago panted and clutched his chest. His ribs throbbed, but they hadn't given out. Why couldn't they have? Why couldn't he have died? He deserved nothing less. Still breathless, he tried to sit up, but found that he hadn't the strength. He twisted his head to the side and stared blearily out upon the laboratory. Genie was there, still in his prison orb. No longer did he glower it Jafar; his eyes only made it as far as the floor now, and he had a genuine aura of defeat about him.

He caught a glimpse of silver out of the corner of his eye - a knife, curved and serrated, gleaming with radiance through the gloom. Jafar waltzed blithely across the room with the instrument of death in hand. Iago sighed inwardly. Perhaps he would receive the end he had longed for after all.

_A traitor to his friends... to Agrabah. Just like Jafar._

Just like Jafar.

And then, in an explosion of fury both toward himself and toward his captor, he lifted his head up off the stone slab, stared Jafar straight in the eye, and hoarsely intoned, "I'm not the only traitor in this room."

Jafar stopped dead in his tracks. "_What?_" he whispered dangerously.

"You heard me," Iago spat, his voice gaining strength. "I'm not the only worthless traitor. You're just as wretched as I am."

Jafar's fury at this challenge was evident. His wicked smile vanished in an instant, and his face reddened with anger. "You call the most powerful being in the world a _worthless traitor?_" he growled through gritted teeth. "You've made your last mistake. _Treasonous fool!_"

He stepped curtly up to the table, and with pure contempt etched into his stony face, brought the blade plunging downward. Iago cried out for the last time. Everything went black.

---

From the darkness emerged the vilest of all evils, its face shrouded by the hood of a midnight black cloak. Unhurriedly, it sauntered forward, piercing the shadows with every stride, its own form blacker than that of the air around it. With every step it took, Iago felt compelled to scream, and scream he did - but to no avail. There was no one around to save him. No one but himself and the depraved force slowly approaching. He tried to flee, but his wings were bound; he tried to escape, but his struggles amounted to nothing. And then, as the evil's movements were arrested before him, as his panic reached a boiling part in his heart and in his blood, he spied a glint of silver in the figure's cloaked right hand –

_CLANG._

And then, he woke up.

Opening his eyes was a troublesome task. Every part of his body ached with a pain he had never known, and even a task as simple as moving the muscles in his eyelids was enough to provoke a whimper. On reflex, he tried to crawl away in case Jafar took another swing at him, only to realize he was unable to move. Paranoia gripped him momentarily as his mind entertained fearful possibilities concerning the state of his body. Was he paralyzed? Was he dead? Then, the answer occurred to him with stinging forthcomingness: the nails had been hammered back in. He was a prisoner of the wall once more.

He was still alive. That much was obvious. He must have fallen unconscious sometime during Jafar's onslaught, though whether it had been due to sheer pain, loss of blood, or a mixture of the two, he couldn't be sure. In any case, Jafar must have decided to wait until another day to extract what little life still remained in Iago. He would save his fun for later. But if that was so, then where was Jafar now? And what was that noise that had stolen him from his horrible nightmare?

Iago's eyes darted to the southernmost passageway. The heavy door stood ajar. Genie still inhabited his prison orb, but he looked agitated - no, frantic. Iago followed his line of vision across the room to a patch of shadow beside the thunderous machine, in the center of which stood, to Iago's tired surprise, the little girl he had noticed prior to coming face-to-face with Jafar.

Darkness encompassed her completely, and it was difficult to make out her expression. But in her voice, Iago was able to discern a sincerity he hadn't known at all in ten lifetimes.

"Hello," she said quietly.

Iago weakly nodded in return.

"I just wanted to, well..."

"What?" asked Iago hoarsely.

The girl lowered her gaze to the floor and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"I'm sorry," the little girl said. "I just..."

"You just _what?_" asked Iago. He hated to sound vindictive to someone so young, but she was pressing her luck.

"Let me see your foot," she pleaded.

The request caught Iago completely off guard. She wanted to see his talon? Just what kind of game was she playing?

The little girl stepped fully into the light.

Iago hadn't had a chance to look at her properly before. He had been too dumbfounded when Jafar revealed his acquisition of Genie and too preoccupied enduring the subsequent attack to give her anything more than a passing glance. He could afford enough time to accommodate her now that Jafar was gone. But when he did, he almost wished he were still lying on that stone table, too busy contending with his own agony to pay her any attention.

She was a girl of perhaps six or seven years with a fair complexion and a pleasant face, even if the smile line was nonexistent. Her ebony hair was restrained atop her head in a tight bun, a style Iago had frequently seen on older women. She covered herself with a long and colorless dress unbefitting of one so young. Her arms were kept tucked back and rigid at all times, and her back was always straight as an arrow. When she looked at Iago, she looked him directly in the eye. This bestowed a feeling of unease in the pit of Iago's heart; the girl's eyes were black and soulless, bonfires that had once burned with unquestionable brilliance, but which had not been rekindled in a long time. Looking into them was like looking into an empty husk. The girl was, for all intents and purposes, a shell of a person. The shell had once housed life, but did no more; the shell had once housed happiness, but did no more; the shell had once housed hope, but did no more. The love, the laughter, the dreams of a better tomorrow, and all the other aspects that combined to make a person whole had evaporated from this being. She had been rendered a mere time capsule, once filled with all the treasures and beautiful things of a better time, now emptied of its exquisite contents and set out to rust. Iago wondered if he was looking at a reflection of himself. But such thoughts were put on the back burner by what the she did next.

She reached out and grasped his left talon.

Right away, he wanted to scream. His entire leg was aflame with anguish, and that anguish was quickly manifesting itself up and down the left side of his body, igniting pain sensors and leaping from nerve to nerve like wildfire. Something was terribly wrong. Iago's muscles constricted as he fought to keep them from spasming. He thought he might faint again if this kind of suffering kept up. When he looked down to see what the girl was doing to evoke such torment, and he nearly did fall unconscious - the entire right claw on his left talon was gone. Nothing was left but a bloody gash where it ought to have been.

In his mind's eye, Iago saw the knife in Jafar's clenched fist, plummeting faster and faster downward as his awareness faded. And he knew where it had landed.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, the pain was gone. Iago blinked a few times to clear his watery eyes and struggled to regain control over his breathing. The girl still held what was left of his talon, but her touch carried no hurt. Indeed, it felt as though all the pain was steaming out of his body as opposed to scorching him from the inside-out.

The girl let him slip from her fingers and backed away. She gazed tiredly at Iago as he stared at her in bewilderment.

"You're a healer?" he breathed, now completely awake.

"A sorceress," the girl corrected. "Father isn't training me to help people. He says the only thing you need in the world is power and the means to get more of it. Here, let me check your other wounds."

"Jafar is your father?"

"Yes."

Iago's face scrunched up in doubt. Even if he had been aware that genies could reproduce, the thought of Jafar fathering a child just didn't seem possible.

But he was silent as the girl nursed his injuries, numbing the sting in his broken wings and acid-scarred body. He watched with nausea as her fingers found their way from his bloodstained feathers to his bruised and weary head. She gave no indication when she was done; she simply turned to leave.

"Wait," Iago called to her as she traipsed back into the shadow on her way to the door.

She only half-turned to face him. "I have to go," she responded. "Father will be expecting me for practice. I don't want to make him upset."

"What's your name?" Iago asked.

The girl goggled at him. Obviously, she had not been expecting such a question. Iago wondered if anyone had ever asked to know her name before, if Jafar cared at all about such a human quality.

"It's... Jazel," she replied after a long pause.

"Why did you help me, Jazel?"

She looked puzzled. "Because... I saw what happened to you today. And I felt like I had to," she shrugged. "Please, I have to go."

The girl withdrew further into the shadow.

"Jazel," Iago said softly.

She gave him an incredulous look, unwilling to be held back any longer.

Iago nodded toward the prison orb, inside of which Genie was staring open-mouthed.

"Will you help him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because... Father wouldn't wish it. Goodnight."

The girl stole from the room before Iago could utter another word. Enveloped once again by darkness, she shut the door on Iago, leaving him to brood in silence.

"Goodnight," he murmured.

He reflected upon the girl and what she had said and done. It was hours before he finally bowed to sleepiness' mighty sword, and when he did, his dreams were just as dark as they had been before he had met Jazel.

---

Jazel visited Iago three or four times more in the evenings when Jafar was busying himself elsewhere. The girl brought her magic touch with her, mending small wounds and siphoning pain from larger ones. Furthermore, when she was around, the bird had someone other than himself to talk to. No longer was he forced to keep all his thoughts and feelings bottled up inside. And her candlelight visits did more than make Iago feel better about his predicament; they gave him a reason to continue living.

He also had someone to bring him food.

"So," Iago said in-between bites of bread and cheese recently pilfered from the palace kitchen, "how do you think it works?"

Jazel bit her lip as she considered the machine. "I don't know," she replied after a few seconds. "I've never asked Father. I suppose I've never seen any reason for knowing _how_ something works as long as it does. If you're not going to gain anything from understanding it, why waste your time learning when you could be doing more important things?"

"Sounds like my kind of philosophy," Iago chuckled.

The girl's brow furrowed. "But maybe..." she started.

"But maybe what?"

She shook her head. "No, you'll think it's stupid," she muttered.

"Will not. I'll have you know I've been watching that contraption since the day I got here and I still haven't got a clue how it works. Your guess is as good as mine."

She pondered, then suggested, "Well, maybe... maybe there's a dragon in there, and that's where all the steam is coming from."

Iago grinned. Jazel's imagination had stretched leaps and bounds in recent days. The many tales Iago had told her of his adventures with Aladdin and Cassim, all of them embellished at one point or another, most likely had something to do with that.

"Well, I suppose it's possible," he mused. "If anybody in the world could own a dragon, Jafar would be the one. But then again, I don't know if a dragon would stick around just to blow hot air. Seems to me a dragon would've smashed its way out of here and flown away by now if there was one."

Jazel titled her head back and stared pensively into the rafters. "I had a dream I was flying once," she told him. "I was high up in the sky with Mother and Father. We were soaring through clouds, and the stars were zipping by all around us... it was incredible."

"Trust me, flying is overrated. Especially with a broken wing," Iago said jokingly.

"I still think it could be a dragon," the little girl maintained.

"I still think a dragon would have escaped by now. Probably would have taken a few of the townsfolk with it for a mid-flight snack, too."

"Well, maybe it's a not a bad dragon anymore," she said. "Maybe it's really a noble being with a kind heart, but it's afraid to leave because people might think it's evil just because of what it once did."

Iago was silent.

"Or maybe," she continued, "it doesn't want to leave because it's convinced itself that it is evil because of what it once did, and it's ashamed of it. Even though deep down it's really a magnificent and beautiful creature, it won't see itself for what it really is. So it stays locked away here in disgrace."

"How did you come up with that?" Iago asked, suddenly filled with hostility. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

The girl was taken aback. "I - I'm sorry," she said. "It was just an idea."

Iago merely sighed and squeezed his eyes shut.

Neither one spoke. The only sound in the room came from the cranking of gears and the hammering of pistons in the machine.

Iago broke the silence. "Jazel..." he began.

The little girl's eyes met his. "What is it?" she asked.

"I - I want you to stop coming here to help me."

"Why?" she questioned.

"Because... because I don't deserve your friendship," Iago stammered. "I've done nothing to earn it. In fact, I've done everything _not_ to earn it."

She gave him a solemn look and took his talon in her hand. Iago hissed - the bite of Jafar's blade was still far from healing. Alarmed, the girl quickly released him and retreated a short distance away, a sorrowful expression on her face.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I forgot."

Iago winced, but tried to put the agonizing experience behind him. "Besides," he said through clenched teeth, "if Jafar ever found out you have been helping me, it would put both of us in danger. And if anything ever happened to you because of _me..._ I wouldn't be able to live with myself after that. Get it?"

"Jafar would never do anything to hurt me," she retorted, miffed at Iago's attitude. "He's my father. He wouldn't -"

"Jazel, just tell me you understand."

The girl stared dubitably at him. Then, she slowly nodded her head.

"Yes, I understand," she finally assented.

"I... I'm sorry. I just don't want to put you in harm's way. But I do think you're right."

"What's that?" the girl asked, cocking her head to the side.

"I do think it could be a dragon."

For the first time since Iago had met her, Jazel smiled.

_KABOOM._

The explosion was not far away; it was so close that it shook the walls and sent loose stones tumbling to the floor. Alchemical equipment rattled off Jafar's desk while torture devices rolled off of shelves. Jazel tripped and was knocked off her feet. The nails in Iago's wings held him in place, and he was merely battered against the wall a few times by the blast. Genie's prison orb, meanwhile, turned into a pendulum rocking back and forth on its chain. The magical being was quickly shaken to alertness.

_What's going on?_ Iago numbly wondered.

"...has broken through the palace gate. Sentries report they'll be upon us in minutes..."

"...overwhelming the Royal Guard, My Liege. They're making a beeline for the throne room..."

"Accursed Aladdin! The boy wants his genie back, no doubt. His insolence has caused me no end of headaches."

Voices at the door! The last one was unmistakably Jafar's - had he said Aladdin was near?

_CLANG._

Not for the first time, the southernmost passageway was flung open. Jafar bustled into the room, flanked on either side by regally dressed advisors, followed by six members of the Royal Guard. Venom boiled in his eyes as he stormed across the laboratory to retrieve his snake staff from its pedestal. Iago had seen that malicious look before whenever Jafar had commenced another bout of torture with him. Suddenly, he feared for Aladdin, for he knew just how Jafar would deal with any and all miscreants if he should catch them: slow and severely.

"This will be Aladdin's last stand," Jafar snarled as he grasped the snake staff in his hands, the serpent's ruby eyes alight with magic. "He's foolish for attacking me so directly, so close to the throne of my empire. I will have him this time! I WILL HAVE HIM!"

"Father!"

Jazel was on her feet, running to meet Jafar.

"Foolish girl!" Jafar bellowed as he pointed the snake staff toward her, and she was catapulted head-over-heels backward. She slammed into the wall next to Iago, where she crumpled and fell to the ground in a heap. Iago brimmed with a fury he had never felt before. Not when Jafar had tortured him, not when Genie had been captured, not when his talon had been severed, _never_ had he felt so livid as he did then. Jafar had struck out against his own daughter! How anyone could commit such a vile felony against such a good-natured human being was beyond comprehension. Any thought for Aladdin's safety was dashed; all he could think of were all the horrible things he would do to Jafar if only he were strong enough...

"This is no time for games," snapped Jafar, turning to face his attendants. "I will not let Aladdin slip through my fingers, not again! We have too much of an opportunity this time! I _will_ have his head carved off, nailed to a plaque, and mounted on my wall by tonight!"

One of the advisors stepped forth. "Sire," he said, "forgive me, but I do not feel it is safe for you to face Aladdin yourself. Such an act could put you in mortal peril and jeopardize the future of your kingdom. The Legion is prepared to march on the capital in two week's time. Couldn't you postpone your vendetta with the street rat until then?"

Jafar glowered and muttered something under his breath. Seconds later, a mace hanging idly on the wall sprung to life, raced across the room, and buried itself in the offending advisor's skull.

"You are forgiven," Jafar growled, casting a menacing stare upon the remaining advisor, who cringed and backed away. "I will not have my own servants deny my omnipotence. And I will not be upstaged by some two-bit renegade street rat! This insurrection will end _today! _HE WILL NOT ESCAPE FROM ME AGAIN!"

The remaining advisor bowed nervously. "Thy will be done, Sire."

Jafar stomped over to where Jazel lay and dragged her to her feet by the ear. The little girl cried out, but she meant nothing to him.

"You're coming with me," he said sternly. "You've been too wrapped up in your own affairs lately, always busy when you could be drilling and honing your magic! You could use some battlefield training."

Jafar let go and lumbered across the laboratory. Jazel obediently followed in his footsteps. She had tears in her eyes, but loyalty to her father was more important than her own emotional state.

"Two guards are to be stationed in here and two more are to stand guard over each of the doors until the siege is over. Aladdin cannot carry the day! He shall not!"

With that, Jafar and Jazel dissolved into thin air. They had gone, presumably, to join the battle.

The surviving advisor took his leave, and four of the six guards filed out of the room as well. Iago glanced at Genie. The magical being looked aghast, resigned to the fact that Aladdin couldn't hope to win without help.

Iago was instantly aware of what he had to do.

The two remaining members of the Royal Guard took seats at a nearby desk.

"Any idea what's going on?" asked the first one, a small man with beady eyes and a scraggly beard who drummed his fingers conspicuously on the table.

"Think I heard Fazal say the Order has launched an all-out offensive. But Jafar will make short work of them. He is all-powerful, after all," replied the other, a larger man with toned muscles and a long nose that was crooked from many fistfights.

"Of course."

"Of course."

Despite their apparent faith in their leader's ability, Iago noticed both men kept one hand near their scabbards just in case.

_Good. They're nervous,_ Iago thought. _That should make things easier._

Iago knew what to do. He had planned this moment for days, going over every minute detail with diligent exactitude. Now, his heartbeat raced and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he realized that with any luck, he was actually going to bring that plan to fruition. For a few minutes, he was absolutely still. Then, finally, he cleared his throat and commenced to mimic his greatest enemy.

"FOOLS!" Iago roared in the best imitation of Jafar that he could muster. The former vizier's shrill voice reverberated throughout the chamber and echoed in every nook and cranny. The guards were promptly on their toes, ready to carry out any orders their master had for them. Even Genie was briefly tricked; his eyes nipped across the laboratory several times before at last coming to rest on Iago.

_Genie's figured it out. Well, I hope he enjoys the show._

He continued, "Cease your mindless prattling at once! Aladdin and his cohorts have broken through the front line. We need reinforcements! Let that pathetic bird go and join the battle THIS MINUTE or I'll see the two of you CREMATED ALIVE!"

Iago was astounded by his own viciousness. His voice was ragged, but the threat it carried was more than enough to fool the mindless guards. They scurried across the room forthwith and began the harrowing task of extracting the nails from his wings.

He was optimistic. _This might work after all,_ he reassured himself.

_KABOOM._

The entire room was shaken by another explosion from elsewhere in the palace. The laboratory rumbled from the resulting concussion, and the more muscular of the two men buckled and fell. Iago, too, came crashing to the floor when the nails, already loosened by the guards, were jolted out of their orifices.

"Argh!" Iago cried as he smashed face-first into the ground. But it was still with Jafar's voice.

Beside him, the muscular guard bared his teeth. He had heard the warden's voice emerge from the prisoner's beak, and it dawned on him that he had been tricked.

"Wretched bird!" he grunted as he pushed himself up off the ground.

Iago saw the beady-eyed guard unsheathe his scimitar.

_MOVE!_

The sword was swooping downward, aimed smack-dab at his neck. Iago managed to twist out of the way in the nick of time. The scimitar claimed no victim, but it missed him by mere inches. The muscular guard was reaching for him now, his wiry hands poised to wrap around his neck and crush the last vestiges of life out of him. The other guard lifted his sword, prepared to strike him down in bloody fashion should he slip through his companion's fingers. Iago knew the sword would not easily miss its mark a second time. Like a predator, it was hungry for the bird's life. Its quarry would not escape again...

_MOVE!_

Iago scrambled and managed to stand, but was instantly on the floor again. The agony in his left talon was too great to ignore; it shot through his body and made any attempt at running away insufferable. The muscular guard was diving for him now. The parrot rolled out of his path, and the man narrowly missed his target. But there was no way Iago could dodge the scimitar, which now whistled with foretaste as it cut through the air to seize its prey.

_FLY! FLY!_

By the grace of Allah, Iago was able to flutter out of the way. The sword missed him again.

_ALTITUDE! ALTITUDE! YOU NEED TO GET HIGHER!_

But the pain in his wings was little less than the pain in his talons. There was no way he could climb high enough to get out of the reach of the guards.

He was left with one choice.

He flapped into the belly of the machine.

The guards made a grab for him, but he was in his element now, diving and weaving in all three dimensions. As long as he didn't do anything too straining for his body to handle, they couldn't hope to catch him. And so, they could do nothing but follow him under cogs and over pipes as he played a dangerous game of dice with death, for the machine was perilous - it would chew him up and spit him out in an instant if he made a mistake.

"This is treacherous! When I get my hands on that bird -"

"He went left around that wheel! I saw him -"

"Just beyond this vent and we'll have him cornered -"

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

A gust of steam had erupted from the vent as the men had passed it. The beady-eyed guard was too short for it to touch him, but the hot air had caught the muscular one squarely in the face. His hands shot up to his eyes as he tried in vain to shield them from the steam. In his blinded state, he was completely unaware of the pipe in front of him, which he promptly tripped over, sending him sailing into a conduit. His skull cracked against the cold metal, and he slumped to the floor.

"Abdul!" the remaining man shouted over the roar of the machine. But his comrade was as silent as the grave.

The beady-eyed guard scowled at Iago, who had also stopped to see what the commotion was about. Ignoring his fallen companion, the man leapt over the pipe the muscular guard had missed. The chase was on again.

There was a beam on Iago's left, and he avoided it. He veered through a jumble of hoses without becoming entangled. There was a gear rotating just ahead. He ducked out of its way and made it safely past. But the pain in his body was getting worse by the second. His wings were broken, and he knew it. Jazel had used her magic to deafen the hurt, but the more and more he used them, the more and more his body screamed for him to stop. Blood was rushing to his head; he was getting dizzy. And all the while, the beady-eyed guard was behind him, gaining on him every second as he fought to combat his own wounds and the obstacles in front of him at the same time.

The jig was up. If Iago continued, he would be caught and slain. And so, he did the only thing he could do. He dipped left into the very heart of the machine.

It was a storm of fire and steel. Furnaces turned the compartment into a hellish environment, spouting flame and smoke hot enough to melt one's face off while pistons pounded with enough fury to make short work of anybody, man or beast. Iago had watched the machine for months and knew the pattern by heart: left, then right as the cylinder fell, then left, then forward, then left, then down to avoid the steam - Iago prayed his memory would not go blank - then right, then right, then forward, then left, then backward - he didn't know which was more searing, the temperature in the room or the pain in his wings - then right, then right, then up -

"AIIIIIEEEEE!"

Iago dared to look behind him. The beady-eyed guard had wandered into the chamber and been crushed by a piston, just as he had planned. The sight of the fellow's body, smashed to a pulp and half-melted by flame, was more than enough to drive him away.

Minutes after being chased in, Iago fluttered weakly out of the machine.

He spotted Genie's prison orb on the far side of the lab. He knew he had to make it there, to free him so he could save Aladdin. But his wings were so heavy and they burned with such anguish that at last, his injuries overtook him. He collapsed wearily to the floor.

All was quiet as he lay there with nothing to ponder but his own despair.

_I've failed,_ Iago thought despondently. _I can't go on. I've failed..._

Resigned to defeat, he closed his eyes rolled over.

_WHAM._

The mace Jafar had hexed had driven itself into the floor where Iago had lay only moments before! Iago was in the air without delay, but so was the mace - it surged forward with the speed of a falcon and gave the poor bird chase. Iago circled and spiraled and swooped around the room, but the mace was too fast for him. It inched closer and closer, threatening to end his life once and for all. Iago knew he had no chance. This was the end for him. He had failed.

And because he had failed, Aladdin would certainly die.

_You're betraying him again!_ a voice in the back of his head accused. _Just like you betrayed Cassim at D'jel! Traitor!_

Iago was suddenly outraged with himself. And that outrage gave him the burst of adrenaline he needed to shoot upward, out of the mace's path.

The mace didn't have enough time to change its trajectory. It hurtled forward on a course that moments before would have resulted in the parrot's death - and collided with Genie's prison orb.

The glass shattered, and Genie was released. He wasted no time on jokes or commentary. In a blur, he bolted from the falling shards, snatched Iago out of the air, and tore through the barricaded window at the apex of the room.

"Close call, birdman," he whispered to the parrot as they rocketed out of the tower on their way to join the battle.

But Iago didn't care. As insane as it sounded, luck had smiled upon him. Genie was free, and with his assistance, Aladdin would surely live to see another day.

---

From the moment he arrived at the throne room, Iago could tell the battle was not going well. Twenty or so white-robed men with the symbol of a golden lamp emblazoned on their sleeves were locked in fierce combat with twice as many black-vested members of the elite Royal Guard. Aladdin's soldiers had been pushed back into a far corner of hall, their only path of escape cut off by Jafar, who floated ten feet above the battlefield and flung balls of fire at enemy fighters, picking them off one-by-one. The losses were heavy, as Iago could tell by the sheer number of corpses littering the marble floor, almost all of them clothed in white.

Genie deposited Iago behind a pillar on the far side of the room from where the battle was being fought. "I've gotta help Al. Stay here," he warned before zipping off the join the brawl.

And so, Iago was left alone to watch.

Genie was in arms immediately. He soared into action, and with as much strength as a semi-phenomenal nearly cosmic being could muster, socked Jafar squarely in the jaw. Jafar was unprepared for the attack. Dumbstruck, he sunk to the ground like a stone in water, then lost his footing and fell. Despite the hopelessness of their situation, the action raised a cheer from the white-robed soldiers, who continued to be slaughtered unmercifully by their opponents in black.

"You - you escaped?" Jafar gasped.

"I'm back and better than ever!" Genie rebutted. "Though I do have a bit of a cramp from being stuck in that tiny little ball for so long. Don't go into the hospitality business, Jafar. You wouldn't do well."

Jafar blazed with anger. He launched a fireball at Genie, but the elder magical being easily sidestepped it, again raising a cry of delight from the crowd.

"You're getting rusty, Jafar. That one missed me by a mile!"

"I wasn't aiming for you," Jafar sneered.

_KABOOM._

One of the throne room's pillars exploded - the fireball had struck it, and it now fell freely into a cluster of soldiers. Genie hadn't been expecting this in the least, and he hesitated momentarily before whisking off to stop it. As such, Jafar had ample time to attack - he appeared in Genie's path and backhanded him before he ever reached the endangered fighters. Genie was knocked aside, and what soldiers were not able to dive out of the way met their deaths beneath the pillar. Meanwhile, Jafar continued to pummel Genie, and the black-vested guards cut down even more of Aladdin's men.

It was at that moment that Aladdin himself appeared out of the crowd to challenge Jafar.

"Leave him alone, snake!" Aladdin called out.

Jafar did as he was told. He punched Genie once more, sending him reeling across the room, then faced his long-time nemesis.

"Ah, Aladdin. Face-to-face again," he mocked. "I hope you realize this will be the last time you oppose me. You won't survive this encounter as you did the last one. This time, I shall strip you not only of your kingdom, but of your very life."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," growled Aladdin.

He raised his silver scimitar high into the air, but Jafar was ready for him. He faded out of existence and materialized again behind Aladdin. The snake staff was raised above his head. He was ready to deal the crippling blow -

"Here, Jafar! I'm the one you want!" Iago hollered.

Jafar caught sight of the parrot flapping across the battlefield. And in that moment, the idea of destroying Aladdin was erased from his mind, replaced with the thought of murdering Iago.

"YOU! YOU'RE responsible for this outrage, for freeing my trophy! I SHOULD'VE KILLED YOU AGES AGO!"

He swiveled the snake staff around to take aim at Iago, but Genie tackled him and wrestled him to the ground. Soon, the two of them were engaged in a tug-of-war over the snake staff.

Jafar was livid. "Jazel, kill that bird now!" he screamed.

Jazel? Jazel was there?

To Iago's bemusement, the girl appeared from behind a pillar. She looked mournfully up at him before summoning a ball of raging black lightning in her hands. With one last melancholy glance, she slung it at him. He saw it coming, but there wasn't time to dodge. It struck him dead on. The next thing Iago knew, he was falling... down... down... and always into darkness...


	3. The Order of the Lamp

**The Just Rewards** by Aldea Donder

Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for any of the characters or places expressed hereafter in this writing with the exception of Jazel and Leon. The city of D'jel belongs to Dragonessa and is used with her permission. Everything else is the property of the Walt Disney Company.

Summary: This story takes place approximately eight years after Aladdin and the King of Thieves. Jafar has returned and won control of Agrabah. Iago has been taken prisoner, and he survives only at the whim of his greatest enemy. This story borrows some of its ideas from Catie Graham's _The Truth About Iago_. Read it as soon as you can; it's fantastic.

**Chapter Three:** The Order of the Lamp 

A shock. A sting. And then the most horrendous pain imaginable. The ground barreled toward him with tremendous speed, faster and faster until it and everything else became a blur. He never saw himself crash into it, though - his vision faded long before then, trapping him in a desolate world without sight, sound, or touch.

All Iago was left with after the darkness consumed him were his own thoughts, and even those were splintered. There were moments when he would forget what had happened to him or even who he was until he forced himself to remember. Then, he would shut his eyes and try to forget again, and the process would begin anew.

He didn't know when he hit the floor. He didn't know who had won to battle or if it was still going on. He didn't even know whether he was still alive. Was this where sinners went? To this eternal black abyss, devoid of compassion or any other emotion, to spend the rest of forever blind, deaf, and numb? If it was, Iago could think of nothing more hideous. Even Jafar's relentless torture was preferable to the terrible emptiness that filled him now. For truly, what could feel worse than not being able to feel at all? Not a laugh, nor a kiss, nor prick of pain to define one's mortality until the end of time? What a terrifying sentence to have to serve. And what a perfectly suited punishment for a worthless traitor such as he.

But he still was not satisfied. And why not? This was what he had longed for, wasn't it? To die? To suffer the ultimate punishment? To atone for his crimes in the most permanent way possible? This was what he had wanted! Why wasn't he happy!

He didn't know. All he was aware of was that he had to live.

He had to live!

The sound of a distant drum echoed inexplicably inside Iago's head - a heartbeat. It was slow and immensely faint, but steady as a ship at sea and constantly adding to its baritone. And the stronger it became, the more it sliced through the cloak of solitude surrounding Iago until finally, the numbness departed from him. His lungs surged like those of a newborn. A welcoming warmth spread from one end of his body to the other, and with that warmth came another sensation that was beyond familiar to him by now, but which he treasured and coveted nonetheless: pain. His entire body tingled with it, from his pounding head to his aching talon. It was not at all a pleasant feeling, but it was altogether preferable to the remoteness he had just experienced. And the heartbeat drummed on.

Then, his mind was filled with sounds of a different sort. There was a supple _thump_ that occurred only in pairs of two and repeated itself indefinitely - hoof beats on the desert sand sprang readily to mind. There were voices, too. Distant ones, but no less recognizable.

He dared to open his eyes.

Genie's startled face goggled back at him.

"Al, he's _alive!_ He's awake _right now!_" he heard him shout.

But Iago didn't hear the reply. An explosion took place inside him at that very second - an agony beyond description, ferociously worse than anything that had been done to him by Jafar's hand. He suddenly became aware of every nerve in his body as each and every one of them lit aflame at once. Death beat upon his chest with a battering ram as his lungs, which had only just tasted the crisp flavor of air again, seemed to crumple inward upon themselves, sending him coughing and gasping for breath. He tried to speak and his throat turned to fire. A deep cold pressed down upon him, crushing his bones to ice. The ringing in his ears drowned out his piercing scream as his entire body trembled with renewed anguish, and all the while, the darkness he had fought so hard to combat seeped back into his vision from the corners of his eyes, threatening to rob him of precious life...

Genie shouted something. Iago didn't hear it. The bird was too wrapped up in this new torment to make out anything distinct. He tried to scream again, but found himself paralyzed. All he could do was to close his eyes and let the sound of his waning pulse carry him away...

-

On an ordinary evening, the tavern would have been filled with the slurred words of patrons as they called for another round, the delighted giggles of wives as they baited their men, and the clinking of glasses as the people of D'jel relaxed after another tedious day of labor. But it was not an ordinary evening. Few faces dotted the bar, and none of them were very happy. The dusk sun that filtered through the dusty windows did nothing to dissipate the gloom that hung heavily in the stale air. No minstrels brightened the tavern-goers with their melodies this night. No mistresses smiled down upon prospective customers. No thieves or pickpockets were there to work the crowd. Most had retreated to the sanctity of their own homes or abandoned the city entirely; the few that remained could be found here, drowning their sorrows away before the coming of the storm.

But Iago and Cassim didn't have a home to return to. They were vagabonds traveling across the Seven Deserts in search of fortune and adventure. It was part of their "No Strings Attached" philosophy - at least, that's what Cassim called it. There was no responsibility, no stress, and absolutely nothing to worry about as long as they stuck to it. They spent a few days in town, seeing what there was to see and doing a few odd jobs here and there, then left whenever they felt like it, going wherever the sand beneath their feet carried them. Sometimes they traveled with a caravan. Sometimes they braved the desert alone. What did it matter? They were unstoppable as long as they were together, and they had all the time in the world.

Except when the land they were staying in was invaded. That tended to put a damper on their plans.

"This makes no sense," Cassim said, cradling his drink in his hands.

_He ordered that bourbon ten minutes ago and still hasn't taken a sip of it,_ Iago realized.

"Why in the world would Aladdin -"

"Y'know, Cassim, if you're just going to stare at that drink all night, I know a thirsty parrot..."

Cassim snorted and pushed the glass aside. Beside him, Iago quickly snatched it up.

"I still don't get it," Cassim murmured.

"Honestly, I don't know why you're so concerned about this! Countries fight all the time. It's human nature for people to go to war. Just like it's human nature for me to flee when the place I'm staying at comes under attack. Cassim, what are we still _doing_ here?"

"Do you know what they're saying, Iago?"

"No, and frankly, I don't _care._ It's not _my_ problem these people are about to be conquered."

"They're saying," Cassim said in a low voice, "that the country of D'jel has been set upon by an enemy nation. An enemy nation called _Agrabah_."

Iago spat out the bourbon he was about to swallow and stared aghast at his friend. After studying Cassim's face to make sure he wasn't playing some kind of joke, he raised a wing to massage his skull.

"Well, maybe they're wrong," Iago suggested. "That doesn't sound like Aladdin."

"I've heard the same thing from at least a dozen different people today."

"Gee... I guess the kid finally found some ambition..."

Cassim glared at the bird.

"Iago, that's hardly -"

"That's not all they're saying," a rough voice from over Cassim's shoulder interrupted.

Cassim and Iago turned around to find a dashing European man in his mid-twenties standing behind them. He had a handsome face with a broad smile and rich blue eyes, but his tanned, battle-scarred arms, exposed beyond the rolled-up sleeves of his jerkin, dispelled any myths about his worldly station. This wasn't just some pretty boy. This was a man who had been around the block, probably more than once.

The man dropped the sizable bag he had been shouldering beside the chair next to Cassim. He began to sit down. Then, as an afterthought, he gestured to the chair and asked, "May I?"

"Fine by me," Cassim answered stiffly.

The man fell into the chair and rested his elbows on the counter. "The name's Leon," he said once he had settled in.

"Cassim."

"Iago," the bird offered.

Leon raised an eyebrow. "A talking bird. Haven't seen too many of those around here."

"But then, I don't suppose you're from around here," Cassim surmised.

"You'd be right. I come from Cryngaine."

"And what brings you from a peaceful place like Cryngaine to a nation on the brink of war?"

"A fair enough question. Tavernkeep! Bring me the finest wine in the house! On the double!" Leon called out.

The sullied man behind the old wooden counter nodded glumly and trudged off to fix the drink, though like most everyone else in the tavern, his heart just didn't seem to be in it. But Leon was undaunted by his lack of spirit. He waited patiently for his drink to be served, his face at ease, his elbows propped up before him. When the wine arrived a few moments later, he brushed his golden locks out of the way and took one long swig. He slammed the glass down when he was done, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and sighed a relaxed sigh.

Cassim took note of the man's uncommon repose. "You seem at peace, stranger. Aren't you concerned that this land is about to be invaded?"

"This land is as much mine as it is yours, wanderer," Leon grunted. He took another long gulp of his wine. "As I said, I'm from Cryngaine. I'm only here by decree of the Council there. Sultan Alhazred ordered me to come to this spit of an oasis in the middle of the desert and 'observe the misdeeds and trespasses of the prevailing Legion of Agrabah and its mutinous general, Aladdin, whereupon the leaders of the Seven Deserts can be made more aware of the fragilities of this new threat, which have hitherto escaped them.' There was more, but reciting that much was painful enough." Another gulp. "Either way, my mission isn't exactly what you'd call difficult." Another. "Lie low, spy on Agrabah's army for any weaknesses, and hustle back to Cryngaine with my findings." Another. "The rulers of the Seven Deserts don't like to be caught unprepared - though I suppose it's six now that Aladdin's turned traitor, isn't it?"

"Aladdin is no traitor," Cassim growled.

Iago watched his partner's hand inch closer to his dagger. Daintily, he perched on his shoulder and whispered, "Calm down, Cassim. This isn't the time to pick a fight."

Leon just laughed. "Whatever you say, old man. If you want to talk yourself into thinking - just what kind of self-respecting tavern is this? They can't even serve a good-sized drink!" He stared disbelievingly at the empty wine glass clutched in his hands, which was, Iago recalled, quite full before he laid his grubby paws on it. Whether Leon was too drunk, too stupid, or simply too obstinate to realize this was beyond anyone's reckoning. In any case, his temper got the better of him, and he tossed it away before anyone could point out his mistake. It landed on the floor behind him and shattered into a million pieces.

Cassim didn't flinch. His eyes remained locked on Leon's in a deathly glare.

"Listen to me," he said harshly. "Aladdin not a sellout. Tell that to your superiors in Cryngaine, and tell them it came straight from the King of Thieves!"

"_Shut up, Cassim!_" Iago hissed. "_You_ might be a suicidal maniac, but some life-loving birds might not care to be strung up by the local magistrate! Are you _trying_ to get me killed!"

"Some King of Thieves you are, having to take advice from an ugly little turkey," Leon remarked caustically.

Iago's talons dug into his friend's shoulder. "Alright, _now_ you have my permission to smash his face in," he muttered. He pretended to roll up his sleeves and was about to attack, but Cassim restrained him.

"Aladdin is my son," Cassim said firmly. "He would never do anything to hurt anyone else. I'd stake my life on it."

Leon let out a bellicose laugh that rattled all the glasses on the counter.

"Your son? Ha! I doubt that! But if you really are his father, you must know Aladdin isn't exactly a Good Samaritan. He's bloodthirsty as hell! The entire population of Agrabah is constantly in danger of being murdered by him, even though he hasn't shown his pretty face in public in the last year. Rumor has it his Royal Guard rounds up people like animals in groups of five, ten, sometimes twenty off the streets. They're dragged kicking and screaming toward the palace. That's the last anybody ever hears of them. And it's not like the people have any choice - they can't even make a break for it thanks to all the sentry towers he's had built to keep constant watch over the city. So they're limited to running, hiding, and living in neverending fear of the man on the mountain."

"'The man on the mountain?'"

"Yeah, that's another quirk. Seems the entire palace disappeared and reappeared on a tall bluff high above the city. Not a single brick out of place! Beats me how it happened. Though I guess it makes sense from a strategic point of view. There's no way anybody can attack the palace if it's way up there. It's sure beyond my understanding. Seems to have mystified the Council as well. There are a lot of theories -"

"Jafar," Iago mumbled.

"What was that?" asked Cassim.

"Jafar."

If it were possible for a parrot to turn pale, Iago was doing it. His head was turned to the side as if he'd been slapped, and he was shaking slightly. Leon looked equally surprised. His eyes were wide and his fists were clenched as he stared accusingly at Iago.

Far away, war horns heralded the beginning of the battle. Their notes echoed across the sandy plains and through the gullies of the city streets. Inside the tavern, the sound rang like a church bell signaling the start of a funeral. The remaining patrons slowly filed out - some solemnly in acceptance of their fate, some sobbing and in tears, some with borderline insanity - leaving Iago, Cassim, and Leon alone to their discussion.

Cassim's eyes no longer burned into Leon. Now, his gaze remained locked on the parrot in a fiery glare. "Iago, it's obvious you know something I don't. Spit it out!" he commanded.

"Fine, but -"

"_Now!_"

"Okay! Well... I used to be Jafar's partner," said Iago with some difficulty, "before I became partners with you. He was the royal vizier of Agrabah and... not a very good person. Neither was I, I guess. Together, we hatched a plot to take over Agrabah by using Al to get ahold of Genie's lamp. The plan backfired, and Al became Genie's master... this is all ancient history, you understand."

"Go on."

The bird took a deep breath and continued. "Jafar managed to get Genie's lamp... er... through means I'd rather not like to talk about. He became sultan and ruled Agrabah. In the end, Al beat him by tricking him into wishing himself to be an all-powerful genie. Oh, he became a genie, alright, stuck in a lamp and all. And I was trapped in that lamp right along with him. Only I escaped, betrayed him, and, uh, made friends with Al. After awhile, he managed to get out and try to take revenge. But I killed him before he could." He rocked back and forth on Cassim's shoulder. "At least... I thought I did," he finished.

"We've been the best of friends for the last eight years and you've never bothered to tell me any of this until now?" Cassim snapped.

"It was ancient history! How was I supposed to -"

"I have to leave," Leon interrupted. "With any luck, the, uh, Council will be able to make use of this new information and, er - where did my wine go? That stupid barkeep must've taken it away. I knew he was an idiot just looking at him! Bah, nevermind. I have to get to the Sentinel right away!"

Cassim gruffly extended a hand and said, "Safe journey, friend. May we meet again under better circumstances."

Leon hesitated, but shook it. Then, with one last reproachful glance at Iago and a sharp farewell, he slung his bag over his arm and disappeared out the door.

Everything was quiet.

"Well, that went better than expected," Iago muttered.

Cassim stood up unexpectedly, causing the parrot to lose his balance. He fell from his perch on Cassim's shoulder and went tumbling face-first into the counter.

"Ow! Hey, what's the big idea?" he asked. Rubbing his beak, he wrapped his wings around the long-forgotten bourbon and was about to take a swig when Cassim snatched it away from him.

"This is no time to befuddle your mind with brandy, Iago. Come, we must hurry."

"You're right, Cassim. I don't know what I was thinking. We've got to skip town pronto if we want to get out of this with our hides," Iago gulped.

Cassim unsheathed his sword and held it up to the light. It shined a melancholy silver in the gloom.

"Er, Cassim? What are you doing?"

"Getting ready for battle."

"WHAT?"

The shards of glass from Leon's forgotten drink crunched noisily beneath Cassim's boots as he walked toward the exit. Iago could do nothing but follow him out of the tavern into the deserted city streets.

"According to you, my son has been overthrown by some nefarious genie," Cassim said sternly. "Aladdin could be imprisoned, injured, or... I don't want to think about what else. I have to fight, to avenge my son if anything."

"Cassim, c'mon! I can still book us some transportation out of here. It's not too late -"

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here."

Iago looked at Cassim with uncommon sincerity. "You'll die," he said simply.

"My life means nothing as long as my son is in danger. I have to try, Iago."

"Oh, that's just terrific! I was right back in the bar; you really _are_ a suicidal maniac!"

Cassim turned on his heel and jabbed a finger into Iago's gut. "And you," he sneered, "are a worthless traitor if you would turn you back on Aladdin after all he has done for you."

The parrot looked around, but there was no one to make the decision for him. Nearly everyone had seen fit to flee the city or stand in its defense. And now, Iago had the same choice to make.

"I've fought Jafar before, Cassim. I... I don't know if I can stand up to him again," he said pleadingly.

"Then I'm afraid this is where our friendship ends."

"Cassim, _please_ -"

"I'm sorry, Iago. Goodbye."

He could only watch helplessly as Cassim turned his back on him and walked away. Iago knew it was the last time he would ever see him, yet he was powerless to stop it from happening. He tried to cry out for his companion to wait as he neared the end of the street, as he turned the corner, as he disappeared from Iago's view and from his life simultaneously. But for once, perhaps for the first time in his life, he was at a loss for words.

And he was all alone.

There was a lump in his throat, but he ignored it. _If Cassim has a death wish, that's HIS problem,_ he reassured himself. _He could have come with me. He should have come with me. If he wants to get himself killed, I don't care... I don't care!_

As he forced himself to believe these things in his struggle to put his soul at rest, his mind was busy contemplating his next move. Cassim was marching off to join the battle. If Iago's goal was to get as far away from the battle as possible, then logically, he should go in the opposite direction. With any luck, he would be able to catch a late merchant caravan departing for safer quarters, or at least a small company of citizens setting out at the last minute that he could travel with. It didn't matter where he went as long as it was nowhere near D'jel or the horrors he knew were about to occupy it.

The torrent of emotions swirling in his head and his concentration on finding a way out of the city left him too preoccupied to consider what was going on around him. As such, he was caught off-guard when something slammed into his back as he flapped down the street, sending him sprawling onto the hard-packed sand.

He squawked, more out of outrage than pain. He was in a bad mood and running out of time. Whoever knocked him down was going to be sorry.

Then, he heard the sinister cackling behind him. And his anger turned to sheer despair.

He didn't want to move. He knew who he'd see if he did, and the prospect of seeing him scared him to death.

And then, his assailant spoke:

"Hello, Iago."

It was incredible how two words could fill him with such unspeakable dread.

Cold hands gripped him. He wanted to close his eyes. He wanted to look away. He wanted to deny any of this was happening to him. But as he lay there, paralyzed with fear, such things became impossible. He could do nothing but stare in silent terror as his captor picked him up and carried him away...

-

"JAFAR!"

No! Not him! He had been hurt too much because of him! He had been put through too much misery! Just thinking about all the gruesome things he had watched Jafar do to his victims, let alone all the gruesome things Jafar had done to _him_, would have been enough to cloud Iago's eyes with tears if he hadn't had them pressed so tightly shut out of fear. He didn't want to go back. He couldn't go back! Oh, he had betrayed Jafar, and Jafar was not one to let bygones be bygones! The thought of what would happen were Jafar to get his hands on him made him whimper -

Enough about Jafar! What about what _he_ had done? He had turned his back on Aladdin, on Cassim, and on everyone else he knew just so Jafar wouldn't hurt him. He had tried to get them killed just so he could save his own neck. He wasn't a noble dragon. He was the same traitor that Jafar and Cassim knew him so well as. He deserved to be tortured for his betrayal. He had earned his just rewards.

No! What Jafar would do to him -

- was exactly what he had coming to him for all his treachery!

- was too horrible even to imagine going through! He knew what happened to those who displeased Jafar. He had been Jafar's associate long enough to witness it firsthand. The idea of that same degree of torture being inflicted upon him chilled him to the very bone. He couldn't face that kind of torment! He was too afraid, too filled with fear to even consider -

Always a coward. Too cowardly to put his life on the line when he could just as easily turn against his friends. Too cowardly to stand up for those who cared for him when they were in danger. Too cowardly to fight alongside Cassim for what he knew was right...

Too cowardly to be anything more than the monster he truly was!

_CLANG._

Oh no.

The echo of the cold iron door thrown open against the dead stone wall. The sound of his footfalls as he strode across room. The orchestra of fear and sadness playing in Iago's chest reaching a crescendo with each and every step. Then, as his nemesis came closer, the knowledge that he was being surveyed in the same way a predator sizes up its prey before the kill. Right now, Jafar was deliberating over what he had in store for the poor bird and contemplating what he could do to make his life even more unbearable. Iago knew this routine. He had suffered through it every day for his entire life. There was no way he couldn't be familiar with it by now.

Thoughtlessly, he made his entire body limp and stifled his breathing. Maybe, just maybe, Jafar would be tricked into thinking he had died this time. Dying was preferable to living in this tortured state, even if he did deserve to be tortured.

"Hello, Iago."

The words caused as much panic as they did the first time he heard them. He felt his pulse lurch. But he kept the act going. There was still a chance that Jafar might take him for dead -

"He doesn't look well, Aladdin. Is he alright?"

Was he alright? That wasn't a question Jafar was likely to ask. Jafar didn't care an ounce about his health; he was only concerned with making Iago's life as horrible as possible. It didn't sound like Jafar, either. Unlike the first voice, this one was soft and pure, like the ringing of a crystal champagne glass.

No, it couldn't be Jafar. If anyone, it sounded like Jazel.

Then, it hit him. Aladdin?

"I don't think so." The first voice again. "He isn't breathing. Jasmine, go fetch the nurse. Quickly!"

Jasmine?

He heard the sound of shoes tapping against rock as someone walked hurriedly to the other side of the room. The door had opened and closed again by the time he began to put together the pieces puzzle, leaving only one other person in the room breathing heavily not far away. He could guess who it was.

"I'm - I'm alive," Iago hesitantly said.

His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself looking at the aged, slightly disheveled form of Aladdin sitting at the end of his bed.

He was astonished, to say the least, mostly because he had half expected everything up until now to have been nothing but a cruel joke Jafar was playing on him, but also largely due to the street rat's appearance. Aladdin was just as Iago had known him so many years ago. He was exactly the same in every way, from his poofy hair to his bare toes, from his laid-back demeanor to his valiant mannerisms. Still, there was something off about him. Something had changed that the parrot couldn't quite put a finger on. He seemed harsher now, no longer as cocky or as playful as the Aladdin he had once known. It was a trait that manifested itself in the tenor of his voice and in his eyes - those hard black eyes, remorseless and calculating. In many ways, they did remind him of Jafar.

The man smiled and clasped his hands together.

"Iago. Good to see you're alive. You've been dead to the world for days," he said.

The parrot blinked and shook his head. It was as if he were in another world.

"Where... where am I?" he asked clumsily.

"In a private chamber set aside for your recovery. To be more specific, you're in the former cavern of the Forty Thieves, the headquarters of the Order of the Lamp."

For the first time, the bird looked around. It was true. This was not Jafar's laboratory. That single realization sent his mind reeling. The laboratory was the only thing he had known for so long, everything else seemed foreign to him now. There were no sinister torture devices here, no nails hammered into his wings. No matter how hard he listened, he did not hear the bloodcurdling screams of the next victim in line to die, and the stench of death did not overwhelm his nostrils. The room was fairly simple - a bed, a chair, a mirror, and a round table with a few trinkets on it. But it was paradise in comparison to the damned existence he had left.

Didn't he deserve to lead a damned existence?

"How did I get here?"

"Before I answer that, I need you to tell me something, Iago. It's urgent."

"No... I can't be here. I have to go back. I have to go back to the palace."

Aladdin frowned. "What are you talking about? _Jafar_ lives there now." He spat the name as he would a curse. "If you came anywhere near him, he'd have you locked away in the dungeon before you could blink. Do you _want_ to go back?"

He pondered that. He pondered the long, sleepless nights spent in misery with nails driven through his wings and weights chained unmercifully to his talons. He pondered the slow, agonizing the days awaiting Jafar's arrival without of hope, help, or happiness to lend him strength. He pondered the torture sessions, the mental anguish, and the silver gleam of the dagger as it swooped down toward him with unholy malice. And he wondered if he really wanted to go back.

Did he?

It was a conundrum. He didn't _want_ to go back. Nobody would wantto return to such a life, if it could even be called such a thing. Yet at the same time, he knew it was where he should be. It was where he deservedto be. Being separated from the torment he knew was rightfully in store for him made him feel wretched and diseased. He wanted to say yes and no at the same time. But with Aladdin glaring menacingly down at him, he could only shake his head.

"Good. I was hoping you hadn't gone crazy, because I need you to be as non-stupid as possible in answering my question," Aladdin said.

Had he had his wits about him, he might have been insulted. But at that moment, he didn't care. He was tired all of the sudden, and all he could think of was the nice, comfortable pillow just beyond his neck and how wonderful it would feel to rest his weary head on it.

"Did Jafar ever mention battle plans when you were around? Army movements, troop positions, which country he was going to conquer next?"

He felt himself nodding off...

"Damn it, Iago, wake up! You can sleep later. This is important!"

Again, he shook his head, then gazed tiredly at Aladdin.

"I never left the laboratory from the day I got there, and the only reason he came there was to hurt... people." He stopped short of saying Jafar tortured him. "I didn't hear anything."

Aladdin stood up and began to pace.

"That complicates matters," he muttered. "I had hoped when we rescued you that you would be able to fill us in on Jafar's next move. What a waste."

The word stabbed Iago like a dagger to the heart. _A waste?_

"Get some rest or something," Aladdin commanded. "I'll be back to check on you in the morning."

Iago swallowed the lump in his throat and let himself sink into the covers. He was a waste. There was nothing good about him. He was just a loathsome, contemptible traitor. He had done too much evil in his life to stand any chance of redemption.

"Wait," he spoke up. "There was something, I think. I can barely remember it, and I don't know whether or not it means anything..."

Aladdin stopped in his tracks and snapped his head around. "Tell me," he said with some agitation.

Iago let his eyelids droop. He was more exhausted than he could ever remember himself being. The pillow called to him, and he would not be slow to answer.

"On the day that you attacked, I did overhear something. One of Jafar's counselors said it wouldn't be wise for him to confront you... said the Legion was prepared to attack the capital in two weeks, or some such thing, and that it would be safer to wait until after that to face you head-on. That's all I heard."

Aladdin was silent for quite some time. Then, at last, he sighed and answered, "Thank you, Iago."

There was a scuffling noise at the door. Iago listened to the rhythm of Aladdin's footsteps as he traipsed there, and the last conscious corners of his mind picked up the short discussion that followed:

"Aladdin, I brought the nurse." He recognized the voice as Jasmine's. She sounded out of breath.

"No need. He's not dead," Aladdin muttered.

"He isn't? That's wonderful! How is he feeling?" she asked, the exuberance in her voice unbridled.

"I didn't think to ask. Find Genie, Jasmine. It looks like we're going to have to make that trip after all."

Those were the last words he heard before he finally fell into a soporific sleep.

-

He was jolted back to life by the sensation of cold hands on his shoulders relentlessly shaking him awake. Iago put them out of his mind at first, hoping whoever was trying to rouse him would leave if he pretended to still be asleep. Unfortunately for him, the person shaking him did not give up that easily. The hands continued to shake him until it became too unbearable to ignore. It occurred to Iago that it would be impossible for him fall asleep at this point, so he turned his head and glared tiredly at the person who so uncaringly yanked him from his respite.

A kindly old woman peered down at him through a hole in the covers. She smiled a smile that was a tad too cheerful for anyone up and about so early and said in a motherly voice, "Good morning, dear! You had a right fitful night's sleep, didn't you? It's time to wake up now! Wake up!"

Iago just stared blankly at her.

"I said," she practically sang as she tore the covers away from him, "it's time to wake up!"

"Hey! What's the big idea!" Iago protested. He made a grab for the covers, but the woman, whom he now guessed was his nurse, held them just out of his reach. Annoyance coursed through his veins as he pounded furiously on the mattress. "Give those back! Can't you let a guy rest in peace? Jeeze, you people treat me like I'm some kind of animal!"

"You have a visitor, dear. He's waiting just outside. I'll go fetch him," the nurse beamed as she folded the covers and placed them neatly on the table. When she was done, she gave Iago a toothy grin and removed herself from the room, closing the door noisily behind her.

_A visitor?__ Probably Aladdin. He said he'd be back when I woke up._

His heart did a summersault in his chest as he recalled the previous day's events. Idly, his eyes wandered to the covers sitting on the table across from him. He wasn't fit for those covers - or the bed, for that matter. He didn't deserve that kind of luxury. Realizing this, he simply stepped off the mattress, not even caring about the pain that shot through his injured talon when he landed on it.

_I shouldn't be here,_ he thought.

Iago caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror leaning haphazardly against the wall on the far side of the room, and he flapped closer to get a better look. He was awestruck by what he saw. He had been fixed up diligently since the last time he had seen himself. The numerous small wounds that speckled his body like spots on a snake before had all been healed, as had the larger, more serious injuries caused by the nails and weights. Tentatively, he flexed a wing, and he was mystified when he felt no pain. The blood had been cleaned. The muscles had been repaired. The bones had been mended.

But the signs of Jafar's cruelty lingered. His beak and body were smudged in places with black splotches, which, although fading, were visible traces of where the acid had dripped onto him. The feathers on his wings and torso were singed from where he had been struck by Jazel's ball of lightning. And Jafar's most lasting signature, Iago's deformed talon, was a permanent reminder of what he had endured - and by extension, of his own vile, pathetic nature.

Some scars could never fade away.

Not that they should. Deep down, Iago knew he had each and every one of those scars coming to him. For betraying Aladdin, the first one to ever show him kindness, and serving his worst enemy, Jafar. For plotting the deaths of the Sultan and Jasmine, who had only felt compassion toward him as long as he had known them. For abandoning Cassim when his friend needed him most, marching off to fight in defiance of death and common sense at the Battle of D'jel.

"Cassim," he mumbled halfheartedly, bowing his head. "He's dead now, and I didn't even say goodbye."

Tears stung his eyes.

A familiar voice called out, "Goodbye? But I've only just arrived!"

It took a few seconds for his mind to register what he had heard. The moment it dawned on him, he snapped his head up, wheeled around, and stared saucer-eyed. His heart jumped to his throat and tripled its pace as he fixed upon the lone figure that filled the doorway with riveted attention.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Cassim," he whispered disbelievingly. "You're - you're alive?"

"Last time I checked."

"You're _alive?_"

"Yes, Iago," he said, "I'm alive."

"You're - you're alive!" Iago sputtered.

Cassim smiled and nodded.

It didn't seem possible... Cassim had lived on in Iago's memory as a broken corpse on a battlefield far, far away, just one more forgotten grave among the dead. The sight of him standing here, larger than life and ready to take on the world, was exhilarant and disturbing at the same time. Cassim was _alive_. That knowledge lifted Iago's soul out of the darkness.

But it also brought his entire world crumbling down around him and left him without any solid footing as the one truth he had known, however horrible a truth it may have been, turned out to be false. He had lived in a reality where his friend had been dead for so long that it felt _wrong_ for anything else to be the case. It was staggering.

Suddenly, he felt furious at himself. Cassim was alive! What kind of monster was he to feel numb instead of happy!

Cassim stepped forward, picked the parrot up, and gently placed him on his shoulder. His touch sent lightning bolts down Iago's every nerve. In that action, all of his anger was gone and all his tears dried up.

"Where would you like to go, Iago?" Cassim asked.

Iago considered that that. And he smiled.

-

"I don't get it," Iago murmured. He strained to keep his perch on Cassim's shoulder as the man sauntered down one of the compound's many cavernous tunnels. It was difficult to stay balanced with half a talon, and that was going to take some getting used to.

"What don't you understand?" Cassim asked.

"All this time, I've lived with the fact that you were dead," the parrot stated. "I saw the expressions on people's faces that day, and they did not look optimistic. I'm not even going to mention the fact that you were up against an all-powerful genie and an army three times the size of the one you were fighting with. How could you possibly have survived?"

Cassim smiled wryly. "An interesting story, that," he mused. "I arrived just as the battle was getting underway, and in a burst of luck the likes of which I have rarely known in my life, I met Aladdin and his comrades the minute I took my station on the front lines. He was there to fight Jafar, just as I was. It is the Order of the Lamp's mission to combat Jafar on whatever battlefield he rears his ugly head, after all. D'jel just happened to be the battlefield on that day. We fought side-by-side, did a fair deal of damage to the Legion, and escaped when Jafar's victory became inevitable. I returned with my son and was adopted as a member the resistance. It was I who suggested Aladdin use this place as a base for the Order, actually."

The irony was not lost on Iago. He had fled from the battle because he had been afraid to meet Jafar. If only he hadn't been such a coward, he wouldn't have been captured at all.

"Which brings me to my next point," Cassim sighed. "Iago, I want to apologize."

"Apologize? For what?"

"For abandoning you. If I had any idea that scoundrel was going to -"

"No," Iago begged. "Don't say you're sorry. Don't."

Cassim gave the bird a sideways glance. "Why in the world not? If I hadn't been so stupid and left you behind, none of this would have happened. I know what happened to you, Iago. Genie's told me all about it. To have to go through three months of that -"

"Three months?" Iago gasped.

"Yes, three months."

He shook his head doubtfully. "It felt a lot longer than that."

Cassim fell silent, apparently at a loss for words. Nothing was spoken between them for several minutes.

"We're here," Cassim said suddenly.

They stopped at an oaken door embedded deep in the rock wall. Cassim's hand reached for a torch burning dimly nearby, which he took and handed to Iago, then rested on the door's tarnished bronze handle. He turned it, but it refused to budge. His determined face flickered in the changing light as he gave the door a few swift, solid rams with his shoulder. Far from being unstuck, the door came unhinged entirely. It groaned and fell forward with Cassim's fifth push, and Iago and Cassim fell right along with it.

They looked at each other. They looked at the door, which was lying on the ground completely detached from its frame. And they burst out with fits of laughter

"Cassim, you've got the muscle of a gorilla and the brains to match!" Iago gasped, clutching his stomach.

"I guess I don't know my own strength," Cassim chortled as he picked himself up off the ground and brushed himself off. He reached for the torch, which had slipped from Iago's wingtips and rolled away. He wiped a tear from his eye with his other hand. "I never did see eye to eye with that door. I haven't used it in years. Then again, I haven't been here in years, either."

They were on a wide battlement towering above the sea. Iago recognized the place right away. He had been here many years ago when Aladdin had fought Sal'uk, the knife-fingered savage turned statue, as part of the initiation rites of the Forty Thieves. Granted, he'd been in a cage then, but it hadn't appeared any different through bars as it did now. The waves crashed treacherously against the rocks far below, creating a watery coffin for anyone who should wander too close to the edge and fall off. Menacing shapes loomed just outside the circle of torchlight. Iago was sure they were shadows, but they toyed with his natural instincts nonetheless, keeping the flow of adrenaline steady through his veins. Iago was sure he could even hear the caws of predatory birds circling the rock spires high above. But despite the site's eccentricities, it was the highest accessible place on the island and perfect for what he had in mind.

Cassim slipped the torch into a notch carved out of the rock, then sat against the cliff with Iago on his shoulder and waited. Minutes passed with the swiftness of hours, and the night pressed in on them from all sides as the torchlight dwindled. Then, just as the flame seemed about to go out, the sun peaked out from beyond the eastern dunes, piercing the darkness and beginning its slow ascent into the sky. Iago cherished it, taking in the warmth of its rays and basking in its humble grandeur. He had never thought much of it before. It had always been a simple fact of life: the sun waxed and waned, went up and went down, and there was nothing special about that. But being deprived of it for so long gave it new meaning. Iago could feel himself gaining strength as it grew more and more imposing. And as it did so, the shadows Iago had been afraid of faded to nothingness. He looked up and saw no birds to threaten him, but only the magnificence of the clear blue sky, which seemed closer to him now than ever before, so close now that he could rake it with his wings and cradle freedom itself in his arms.

"How is it?" Cassim asked.

Iago practically glowed. "It's glorious. I never realized how precious it was to me..."

"...until it was gone," the man finished the sentence.

They watched for several minutes more until finally, Iago stood up and patted his stomach.

"Well, now that that's done, let's go get some grub. I'm hungry," he complained.

"This is supposed to be a touching moment. How can you think of food at a time like this?"

"I haven't eaten since I left the palace, and even then, it was only table scraps," the bird shrugged. "So sue me. You'd be hungry, too."

"Genie fed you while you were in your coma. He did it... how did he put it... _intravenously_."

"I have no idea what that means. But knowing his talent for magic, I'm amazed he didn't starve me to death."

They returned to the claustrophobia of the tunnels and set out on the decrepit journey to the kitchens. Their conversation was much lighter than it had been. They spoke chiefly of old times and their adventures together, neither one ready or willing to bring up the subject of Jafar to the other.

Iago had only food on his mind as they passed slowly through the dusty, unlit corridors. All such thoughts evaporated, however, when the narrow hall before them opened up into the enormous hollow that dominated the center of the cavern. The change in environment was insurmountable. Having been submerged in the darkness of the tunnels for so long, the brilliant light emanating from this grand hall was enough to partially blind the parrot. And after becoming accustomed to sterile hallways of stone and dirt, his senses were quickly overwhelmed by the grandeur of the tall Greek columns, delicate inlaid mosaics, and monolithic statues of gods ranging in diversity from Egyptian to Roman, from the elegant to the grotesque, all of which adorned the rough-hewn cave like sparkling gold gilded to tarnished brass.

The sheer degree of activity taking place within left him slack-jawed as well. He had believed the Order of the Lamp to be a relatively small resistance movement. Now, he saw how utterly wrong he had been. There had to be a hundred white-robed people in this room alone, buzzing from place to place and going about their duties, which ranged from tending the stables to taking care of the sick and wounded, as if guided by some unseen king. It was a human hive.

Cassim beckoned toward a doorway on the far side of the room that a number of people were pushing to reach. "Those are the kitchens and dining chambers," he told Iago. "It's breakfast time, so if you want anything to eat -"

"Wait a sec," Iago interrupted.

He craned his neck to peer through the crowd.

Sitting near the door Cassim had indicated were Genie, Carpet, and Abu. They were hunched over a circle drawn in the dirt. Carpet seemed to be examining the circle from every possible angle while Genie glared at him triumphantly. Abu had his arms crossed and shifted his gaze from one to the other, occasionally opening his mouth to chatter something unintelligible. Iago pointed them out to Cassim, and Cassim nodded and walked over to them.

"Give up, Rugman! There's no way you can win," Genie smirked. "Three marbles to one? I've worked the odds out on my handy dandy calculator" - he held up a shiny metal pad with numbers on it - "and the odds of your winning are in the negatives!"

"Uh huh, uh huh!" Abu chirped.

"You see? Even the monkey agrees with me!" He tuned into a shirtless old man with a white beard and a turban, arms outstretched, floating cross-legged three feet off the ground. "And as we all know," he said in a mock Indian accent, "Monkeys never lie. They may run for President of the United States, but they _never_ lie."

Carpet flicked a small ball into the circle with one of his tassels. It struck one of Genie's marbles, which promptly rolled out of the ring, then ricocheted off and hit another. That marble spiraled wildly and tapped the third, causing both the roll out of the ring as well. When all was said and done, the only thing left was the ball Carpet had shot, which stood miraculously in the very center of the circle.

Genie held his face in his palms.

"No! It isn't possible!" he moaned.

"Good morning, fellows," Cassim said casually as he approached. "Having fun, I hope?"

Carpet and Abu glanced up and saw Iago perched on Cassim's shoulder. Right away, they went mad with glee; Carpet flew circles around them while Abu jumped up and down and cheered. When he did so, he trampled the circle drawn in the dirt, erasing it entirely. Genie uncovered his eyes to see what all the commotion was about, noticed the ring was missing, and threw a fit.

"Abu! Look what you've done! Now I can't have a rematch!" he cried.

The monkey grabbed Genie's chin and tilted his head so he was looking at Iago. His face instantly lit up.

"Iago!" he said. "Great to see you again! How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Held prisoner by my worst enemy for three months, nearly killed by a ball of lightning, and woken at midnight by a giddy psychotic nurse. I'm happy as a lark," he responded sarcastically.

"Yep, that's Iago, alright," Genie laughed.

Abu dashed up Cassim's leg and lifted himself up onto his shoulder. He grabbed the parrot's wing and shook it wildly, ecstatic to see his old friend again. Iago wobbled unstably on his wounded talon, but chuckled nonetheless.

"Jeeze, Abu, it's only been a few years. Don't tell me your primate brain forgot all about me in that time?"

The monkey put on his trademark dopey grin and laughed.

"Now, now, Abu. I'm sure the boss doesn't like having your tail swishing in his face. Get down from there," Genie ordered.

Abu crossed his arms and blew a raspberry. Genie frowned at this, reached over, and picked Abu off of Cassim. He set him down on the ground, only for him to scamper up the man again and start dancing frenziedly on his shoulder.

Genie watched this with amusement. "Gee, monkey, is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see him?" he joked.

"It's alright, really," Cassim protested.

Genie shrugged and turned to the bird. "Iago, I've gotta thank you for helping me out back there at the palace. If it weren't for you -"

"I hate to interrupt such a heartwarming scene," intoned a menacing guttural voice from behind them.

Cassim turned around, and Iago was aghast to see Rasoul standing before him. His ebony goatee was flecked with gray and he appeared to have lost a few more teeth, but despite time having taken its toll on him, he was still an ox of a man and more than a little intimidating. Most alarming of all, he was still dressed in the black vested uniform of the Royal Guard, all of whom had pledged their undying devotion to Jafar. Iago suppressed a shudder. Looking at him brought too unhappy memories of being the genie's prisoner flooding back into his mind.

He tried his best to keep his composure. Still, Cassim must have sensed his discomfort, because he whispered to him out of the corner of his mouth, "Rasoul is one of Aladdin's generals, just like Genie and myself. While the rest of Agrabah's defense forces were quaking in their boots, he was the only one who stood up to Jafar. His allegiance was more powerful than anything that swine could do to scare him."

Iago nodded and began to breathe again.

Cassim cleared his throat. "What do you want, Rasoul?" he asked.

"I need to talk to the genie about our plans for tomorrow morning. I..."

His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the monkey and the bird sitting atop the other man's shoulders. Then, his emotionless face twisted to form a devilish smirk.

"Nice company you're keeping these days, Cassim. A thief hanging around with vermin. How appropriate."

"Of course, Rasoul and I still don't agree on many things. Namely, each other," Cassim told the bird through gritted teeth.

The shrill screech of a whistle cut through the tension between Cassim and Rasoul, and all eyes turned to Genie, who was suddenly wearing a black and white striped referee's outfit. He stepped between them and held them apart from each other, then said harshly, "Now, boys, I'm not going to tolerate infighting when we're all on the same team. Both of you simmer down before I have to put you in the penalty box. Rasoul, just what is it you need to know?"

Rasoul rolled his eyes at the petty magic show. "I'm looking into security preparations. The fewer people know what's going on, the safer we'll all be. Of course, I don't see how we'll be safe at all with a traitor in our midst," he leered, looking at Iago.

The sadness that had vanished from Iago the moment he'd learned Cassim was still alive now returned to him sharper and swifter than ever before. The sight of Rasoul had already planted images of Jafar back in his mind; being called a traitor by him stung just as much as hearing the words come from Jafar himself. He felt physically and emotionally sick.

"_Take that back!_" Cassim roared. He had unsheathed his dagger and was flailing it dangerously in the air. Rasoul quickly backed away, apparently shocked that his nemesis had retaliated so violently. His eyes wandered to Genie for help, but he found none. He looked as furious as Cassim and seemed just as ready to lash out.

"Put the knife away, Cassim. You're drawing a crowd," Rasoul growled. It was true. A number of people had gathered around to watch the conflict and were now looking inquisitively from one man to the other. It wasn't every day that two of the highest ranking members in the Order assaulted one another with weapons in the middle of the grand hall.

Cassim's face was flushed with anger as he advanced on Rasoul. "So what if I am? You owe your life to Iago - just a few days ago he nearly got himself killed distracting Jafar so Genie could zap you, me, and the rest of us out of there! Apologize to him at once!"

"No," Iago said. "Don't. I -"

"Do you have any idea what that bird is responsible for!" Rasoul snarled. "He's a menace! It's because of him that Jafar was able to become as powerful as he is now. Aladdin agrees with me! How can you recognize him as anything other than the fiend he is!"

_Fiend! Abomination! Base! Foul! _

"I'm warning you, Rasoul -"

"I will not beg the forgiveness of some undeserving backstabber!"

"ENOUGH!" Genie yelled at the top of his lungs. Immediately, a hush fell over the two men. Very rarely did Genie raise his voice, and his doing it now was enough to grab anyone's attention.

"Rasoul, you have no idea what went on at the palace. I, on the other hand, do. I watched it day by day, and it was not pleasant," Genie fumed. "If you had any idea what he was put through only to put his life on the line for all of us, you'd be singing a different tune. I'm not asking you to treat him like a hero. I'm not even asking you to be sympathetic. But to come out of left field and call him a traitor for no reason is the lowest of the low!"

Rasoul waved the comment aside. "It doesn't matter. The parrot's gone now, anyway."

They looked around. It was true. Iago was nowhere to be seen.

-

The sky was a dull hazel as Iago looked out upon it. The sun was setting at last. For hours, he had sat by himself on the lonely battlement waiting for it to disappear over the horizon, but now that it had finally begun to, it didn't seem quite as glorious as he had pictured it. All the dreadful things of earlier that morning had returned. Waves smashed perilously against the jagged rocks below. Ominous shapes lurked just out of view. Predatory birds circled their lairs on the cliffs high above. He wondered if such terrors simply came out at nighttime and disappeared during the day or whether it was simply because he was alone now that they made themselves present to him.

_You're a traitor,_ he raged at himself. _You're a despicable, spineless traitor. You sold them out to Jafar when they placed their trust in you. You abandoned them to die when they needed you the most. And now, you're going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself while all the people you've hurt in your life argue in favor of your character! You wretched, deceitful, selfish monster! You don't deserve any of this. You don't deserve any of them!_

"Iago?"

He turned his head, expecting to find Cassim or Genie standing in the empty doorframe. To his bafflement, he was instead greeted by the unexpected sight of Jasmine walking tenderly across the battle-scarred fortification. He averted his eyes reflexively, too ashamed to meet her gaze. The sins he had carried out against Jasmine ran just as deep and smelled just as foul as any of the others he had committed in his lifetime. In fact, he had probably done more to hurt her than he had to hurt anyone else, for not only had he stabbed her in the back the same as anyone else when Jafar had returned to seek revenge, he was also guilty of having conspired to murder her in cold blood for the sake of taking over her kingdom. For all the evil he had played a part in afflicting against Jasmine in the past, Iago couldn't bear to look her in the eye.

"Iago?" she repeated. "Are you alright?"

Iago was inclined not to answer her. He was too ashamed to have friendly conversation with a person he had never been anything but an enemy to. He had done nothing but seek to cause Jasmine pain for as long as he had known her, and the prospect of facing her made him feel ill. But for whatever reason, Jasmine saw things differently. She had sought him out. There was no way he could ignore her.

"Jasmine," he said. "How did you find me? What do you want?"

"These tunnels may be dark, Iago, but Carpet doesn't need to see to find his way around. I thought there might be trouble when I saw the argument break out in the grand hall, and I asked him to keep an eye on you. When you flew off, he followed, and... well, here I am." For a brief period, she was mute, as if she expected Iago to say something in response - perhaps for him to ask her to leave. When his silence rang in harmony with hers, she tentatively decided to continue: "You know, not a second goes by that Rasoul and Cassim aren't at each other's throats. I sometimes feel their own personal little war is more belligerent than the one we're putting up against Jafar. It doesn't surprise me that they managed to get into a shouting match in the middle of the grand hall. Typical men. I'm sorry if they hurt you, Iago."

His eyelids drooped as if they were holding up the heaviest weight in the world. He hung his head desolately and muttered in the tone of a man making his last request before death, "Please, don't feel sorry for me. Please."

"Iago, I don't want to feel sorry for you. I want to help you. I want to know what's wrong," she said sincerely.

He felt the overwhelming burden he was shouldering become a good deal heavier. Iago _couldn't_ let her know what was wrong. The reasons for this were numerous. If he gave Jasmine a reason to pity him, she would pity him all the more for it, and the last thing Iago wanted was for the person he had hurt the most to feel sympathy for him - sympathy he unquestionably did not deserve. Even worse, Jasmine might feel guilty herself if she learned that she was at the root of his shame, and adding to all the grief he had caused her would make him even more pathetic in turn.

Besides, Iago had never been one to share his feelings. For him to recount the entire story of his life and all the guilt and remorse it entailed, which was at heart what Jasmine was asking him to do, would be a severe contradiction with _who he was_. As much as he didn't want to admit it, it frightened him to impart what he was truly feeling to anyone else. He had been taught not to share he feelings, and so he would not. And that was that.

With all of this on his mind, Iago decided to take his usual approach in responding to questions that it hurt too much to answer: the cynical approach.

"Iago," Jasmine gently repeated, "I want to help you."

"Help me? Why do _you_ want to help _me?_ Before you go aiding people who aren't worth a drop of your help or an ounce of your affection, why don't you look at yourself? You've lost your home! You've lost your family! You've lost everything you ever dreamed of having! Somewhere in the world, there's a power-mad genie who would love nothing more than to be able to take you prisoner and nail you to the wall of his laboratory. And all you and your precious Aladdin can do about it is fight and fight and go on fighting until you just want to give up, but you can't, because if you stop, you truly will have lost everything. Before helping me, _Jasmine_, I would take a look in a mirror - unless you've lost that, too!"

Iago had lashed out to make Jasmine stop questioning him. For the time being, it seemed he had succeeded, because Jasmine had nothing to say in response. Iago was satisfied at first. Then, it sunk in that what he had said had probably done more to hurt Jasmine than he had intended.

That always had been the fundamental flaw with the cynical approach.

_Good work, Iago! Make the lives of those "friends" of yours just a little bit more painful. It's not like you haven't done enough to hurt them already! Why didn't you just let yourself die when you had the chance? It would've done everyone else loads of good._

Slipping back into his depression, Iago started to apologize. "Jasmine, I -"

"It's very beautiful, isn't it?" Jasmine interjected.

"What is?"

He heard pebbles crunch under her slippers as she treaded forward across the stone, closing the distance between the two of them and stopping at his side. "The sunset," she clarified as she sat down next to him, though he still would not offer her his gaze.

"I wish I could say so," he answered dully.

"Iago," Jasmine began, "what did you mean when you said you weren't worth a drop of my help or an ounce of my affection?"

He closed his eyes. Had he actually said that? Had he actually given himself away?

Yes. He had.

He was being really, really stupid.

Brusquely, he replied, "It doesn't matter. I didn't mean anything I said. Forget it."

"Actually," Jasmine articulated slowly, as though she were piecing together what she wanted to say while she was in the middle of saying it, "I think you meant every bit of what you said. Did you realize that everything you said about me also holds true to you? You've lost the only home you've ever known, the only family you've ever known, and the only dreams you've ever had. And I think you know better than anyone what Jafar would do to you if he caught you again."

"It's still not true. I don't go on fighting," Iago pointed out, recalling the incident at D'jel and all the occasions he abandoned his friends out of cowardice before that.

"Then why, Iago, are you fighting _yourself?_"

Iago opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. There was nothing he could say to defend himself. For once in his life, he had been outwitted.

He exhaled exasperatedly and surrendered to her questioning. "Fine. You've made your point. Now what do you _really _want from me?"

"You've been in pain since the moment you arrived here," she told him. "I watched it a few short minutes ago in the grand hall when you flew away from the group, and I witnessed it firsthand last night when you pretended to be dead in front of Aladdin and me. I want you to tell me what's wrong. What did Jafar do to you to make you give up on life like this?"

"Nothing. Jafar didn't play any part in making me this way," he admitted sullenly.

"Then what _is_ the problem, if not him?" Jasmine queried.

Iago's voice was seething as he retorted, "Fine. You want to know the truth? _I'm_ the problem. I'm not your friend, Jasmine. I'm no friend of anyone's! I'm cruel, I'm disgraceful, I'm villainous. I was at Jafar's side when he was plotting to have the lot of you killed! I didn't give a damn that what I was doing was wrong. I only cared about myself. And then, you saw past that - although I'm not sure how. You took me in after all I'd done and showed me a world I had never seen before. You gave me a home and a family. And then I stabbed you in the back again!"

"What -"

"Even after I freed Genie and rescued you from laboratory, I committed the same crime. I turned my back on you. After all you had done for me and after all I had done to you, I turned my back on you! I let you face Jafar alone while I hid and watched like a coward. I didn't care that you could have died trying to destroy the lamp and bring an end to his madness. I didn't care that he could have killed you. I only cared about myself. I only cared about _me!_ It wasn't even until it was brutally obvious that Jafar was going to win that I stepped in to lend a hand, and I wasn't there any longer than was necessary. I don't belong here with people as good and kind as you! I deserve to be back in Jafar's torture chamber, being punished for everything I've done to fail you."

The words emerged painfully from Iago's mouth. That reality had been sharpened by his guilt like a sword upon a whetstone; now, it seemed to pierce his very soul with cold, gleaming truth.

"You haven't failed us," Jasmine said sternly. "Jafar has -"

"Jafar hasn't done anything to poison my mind or mutilate my thoughts, if that's what you were going to say," Iago snapped. "He just showed me what I truly was. He held up the proverbial mirror for me to glimpse my reflection in. And it wasn't as charming as I always thought it was."

"Listen to me, Iago. You saved all our lives that day, twice! You got us out of that laboratory, didn't you? If it hadn't been for you, Aladdin would have been executed, and Jafar would have done away with the rest of us in time. Nevermind the fact that you participated in helping Jafar capture us in the first place. As I understand it, you were under duress at the time and couldn't do anything but what he told you to do, so that's excusable."

Iago dug at the ground with his talons and replied, "Under duress? I was being coerced! Besides, letting him kill me for not partaking in his sick revenge would have been a lot less selfish than risking all of you dying on some lofty hope that I _might_ be able to free you before it was too late!"

"So you admit you would have been killed if you hadn't helped Jafar? That doesn't sound like coercion to me. That sounds a lot like being threatened," Jasmine pointed out. "And in the end, what does it matter what you did to lock us up? You still saved us all in the end. That shows your heart is in the right place."

"Would you risk your life to save Aladdin if he were in danger?" Iago put forward out of the blue.

"What?"

Iago repeated, "Would you risk your life to save Aladdin if you knew he were going to die?"

"Well, I suppose -"

"Without thinking of the consequences? Knowing that you could die as well?" he pressed.

"That's different, Iago. I haven't been through anything close to what you've been through. When I was growing up, I had the blessing of a family to nurture me, to care about me, to bring me joy throughout the seasons. But for the longest time, you had no one to fill that role. And when you did finally find someone, he was malicious, unfeeling, and cruel to you. You deserved so much more. You _deserve_ so much more. You lived through horrors I can't even imagine, and you lived through those horrors day after day after day for _years._ He hurt you, Iago. I know he did, though I don't know how. Like so much else about you, I think you will keep that locked up inside yourself forever. But the point is, with all the fear he instilled in your heart and all the darkness he cast over your life, a few seconds of hesitation is understandable. You deserve the world and more, Iago. You don't deserve to live your life hating yourself for something that wasn't even your fault."

Suddenly, Iago was put on the defensive. It was not a place he was used to being. Unsure how or even if he wanted to refute her, he bitterly protested, "We weren't enemies. We were friends... partners in crime. He didn't hurt me."

"Maybe not at the end. But in the beginning?"

"Jasmine, I tried to kill you!" he balked.

"People _change,_ Iago."

"Not always," Iago answered, recalling glaringly how he had left Cassim to face Jafar alone at D'jel. "I haven't changed at all."

"You have a beautiful soul, Iago, and a golden heart - even if you seldom choose to show it. You've proven that to all of us countless times. Just three days ago, you freed Genie from Jafar's lair, and in doing so, saved my husband's life. Why would you do that if you were such a terrible person?"

Iago's brow furrowed fleetingly as he considered the question, but was quickly replaced by the shaking of his head as he divorced himself from the idea. "The only reason I freed him was because I wanted out," he uttered dismissively. "I couldn't stand to be tortured any longer, and Genie was my ticket to freedom."

"Iago," she said softly, "you said not a moment ago that you didn't feel you deserved to be free. You told me you wanted to be back in Jafar's torture chamber so you could be punished for your failings."

He mentally cursed himself. He _had_ said that.

"I - I -" he stammered.

He felt Jasmine rest a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, he took comfort from it - it reminded him so much of Jazel, reaching through the darkness to ease away his pain.

"Look at me, Iago."

Something in Jasmine's honeyed words buried Iago's guilt and compelled him to do what she told him to. Compulsively, he crooked his head and gazed into her familiar face. What he saw there alarmed him to no end, and he barely to stifle a gasp. An acute, shadowy scar ran a jagged path vertically down the right side of her face, eternally marring the beauty she had always been renowned for, the beauty that once had brought suitors from far and wide to the Palace gates seeking her hand in marriage before she was betrothed to Aladdin. Its presence captured his attention directly, and he found it difficult to pry his attention away from it. At last, he realized he was staring and averted his eyes, choosing instead to focus on the ground and his own wounded talon.

_Some scars could never fade away._ The thought reverberated in his head, and he felt sick to his stomach realizing who must have given her the blemish.

Airily, she whispered to him so that only he could hear, "You aren't alone in having suffered, Iago. I was never captured like you were, but that didn't keep me from bearing Jafar's wrath. He hatched his own unique plot to bring me down, just as he devised his own unique plan to torment you. In time, I rebounded from what he did to hurt me. One day, I'm sure you'll do the same. But before that can happen, you have to forgive yourself."

He regarded her despondently, meeting her gaze for the first time in eight years. Her eyes were gracious and offering of unmitigated compassion. But they were also clouded with an immense sadness - a sadness he was sure had been dormant there when he left her on her wedding day. Absent was the vitality that had made her so stout of heart in her youth. Gone was the spirit that put a smile on the face of any and all who beheld her pleasant visage. Indeed, what he found in her eyes was more shocking than any scar. Peering through the window of her soul, Iago couldn't help but wonder just what had gone wrong.

"He's still torturing you. I can see it," Jasmine said quietly. "But you can't let him win, Iago. You can't let him win."

"Why are you making this so hard for me?" Iago grumbled.

"Because I care about you. And that's enough."

"I'm not worth caring about," he murmured.

Jasmine leaned over and kissed his beak. "You are," she declared sincerely. "You deserve the world and more. I wouldn't lie to you, Iago. You only have to believe it."

He finally gave in, defeated. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was just being stupid. It wouldn't surprise him.

"If you say so," he admitted at last.

By now, the sun had dipped deep into the western sea. Only a thin golden sliver shimmered in the distance, the last beacon of the day before the heavens turned dark and the moon took its rightful place at the peak of the sky. A few of the stars had already awoken from their daily slumber and assumed their bastions as guardians of the night. They twinkled down at Iago from an eternity away, companions shining through the darkness and ensuring that no matter how far away they were, he would never be alone.

-

"Wake up! Wake up! Time to wake up!"

"For the sake of all that's precious, _leave me alone!_" Iago screeched. He snatched a pillow off the bedspread next to him and sent it sailing through the air toward the monster. To his dismay, she caught it soundly in her claws and set it gently on the table, then returned to shaking him and screaming for him to get out of bed.

"Wake up! You've had a night's rest, now it's time to wake up!"

"You're a bigger hazard to my health than any insane genie who's out for my blood - and you're just as evil, too!" he shot at her. Why did the woman have to be so difficult? He had only just gone to sleep.

"Your friend Cassim is leaving, dear. Princess Jasmine thought you might like to say goodbye to him."

"What?"

"Your friend Cassim is -"

"I heard what you said," Iago mumbled as he massaged his skull.

_Cassim is... leaving? What's going on?_ he wondered distantly.

"Where is he now?"

"The grand hall, dear. He and the others wanted to leave early in the morning so they could cover as much distance as they could before sun's height. They also didn't want to cause a stir - but then, I don't suppose you can plan a journey across the Seven Deserts and keep it a secret, can you?" she laughed.

"Across... the Seven Deserts?" the bird repeated slowly.

"Yes, dear. If you're fast, you can catch him before he leaves. I'm sure he'll be gone soon. He and the rest of them wanted to leave early in the morning so they could cover as much distance as they could before -"

"Glad to hear it. Gotta go," he muttered.

He soared out the door without a second thought.

_I never realized how precious it was to me until it was gone._ The words replayed over and over again in his mind. He had almost lost Cassim once before because of his own stupidity. He would not abandon him again.

The tunnels were as somber as they'd always been as he sped through them, following the same path he'd taken with Jasmine the night before when she'd walked him from the grand hall back to his chambers. If his destination had been far, he undoubtedly would have been lost in the twisting corridors, so inky and absent of light that they might just as well have served as his tomb. Thankfully, he emerged into the enormous hollow mere minutes after leaving his bedroom. He ignored the stinging of his eyes as he entered; giving them time to adjust to the light was not a priority. He needed to find Cassim.

That didn't prove to be a challenging task. He instantly spotted Cassim sitting astride a steed the color of midnight near the entrance to the cave. Iago also noticed Aladdin and Rasoul mounted on identical horses nearby. Abu was situated on Aladdin's shoulder, and Genie leaned against a wall with his arms folded across his chest.

Aladdin faced the wall and held up his hand. He opened his mouth and seemed about to say something when Iago whooshed across the room and perched on Cassim's shoulder, a flurry of feathers and talons.

"Interruptions!" Aladdin scowled. "Iago, what are you doing here!"

"I could ask you the same question," he said defensively. "You weren't planning on leaving without me, were you?"

"Yes, actually. We were. There's no reason for you to come along," Rasoul sneered.

"There's no reason for me _not_ to come along, though, is there?"

Rasoul shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. "I don't think it's a good idea to -"

"Of course not," Cassim answered for him. Rasoul gave him a deathly stare, but said nothing.

"You know, one of you could at least have had the decency to tell me you were going to leave this early. The only people up at this hour are criminals and lunatics, you know."

"Neither of those are very far from the truth, actually," came Cassim's cynical reply. He didn't appear at all surprised to see the bird. Completely the opposite, he looked more than pleased. Iago wondered whether he had been expecting him to show up all along.

"You didn't have to come. You could just as well have stayed behind," Aladdin said.

"And put up with that crazy banshee screaming at me to wake up six hours before sunrise? No, that's one kind of torture I can't stand," he remarked.

Aladdin ignored him. Instead, he turned to Rasoul and inquired, "Are we ready to go _now_?"

"As ready as we're going to get," came Rasoul's stiff response as he glared seethingly at the parrot.

"Then let's be off," muttered Aladdin. He held up one white-gloved hand to the rocky cave wall, and in as loud and mighty a voice as he could summon, announced the magic words: "Open Sesame."

The ancient stone groaned as magic channeled through the veins of the earth. Iago could hear the sound of rock moving against rock. Then came the rumbling as the ancient gateway was forced open against its will, granting passage to Aladdin and the other members of the Order. On the other side of the wall, the raging waters of the sea had parted to form a temporary road for the travelers; Iago felt Cassim's grip tighten on his reins as he looked at it. His horse whinnied softly.

Iago suddenly became aware of the aura of nervousness that hung as thick as sweat in the cool night air and infected all of the companions. Aladdin rocked back and forth in his saddle and put on a reassuring smile for his comrades that didn't quite reach his eyes while Abu fidgeted apprehensively on his shoulder. Rasoul grasped the reins of his horse so tightly that his knuckles turned visibly white in the darkness. Cassim's expression was unreadable, but Iago had known him long enough to be able to see had something on his mind. Even Genie, whose semi-phenomenal nearly cosmic powers were enough to ward off almost any danger, shifted his weight worriedly from foot to foot in anticipation of whatever was to come.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asked after an uneasy silence, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

This time, Aladdin answered him. "To the Land of the Black Sand," he said grimly. "To meet Mozenrath."


	4. Of Blood and Battles

**The Just Rewards** by Aldea Donder

Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for any of the characters or places expressed hereafter in this writing with the exception of Jazel and Leon. The city of D'jel belongs to Dragonessa and is used with her permission. Everything else is the property of the Walt Disney Company.

Summary: This story takes place approximately eight years after Aladdin and the King of Thieves. Jafar has returned and won control of Agrabah. Iago has been taken prisoner, and he survives only at the whimsy of his greatest enemy. This story borrows some of its ideas from Catie Graham's _The Truth About Iago_. Read it as soon as you can; it's fantastic.

---

**Chapter Four:** Of Blood and Battles

The following days passed for Iago just as they had for the last three months: painfully slowly. He never would have believed the Land of the Black Sand was so far away had it not been for this trip. Whenever he had traveled there before, he had arrived quickly, rarely in more than a half-day's time. But he had had the luxury of Carpet's incredible speed then; being able to shoot across the sky and circumvent the unpleasant terrain below tended to make things go faster, even if he did have to put up with Genie's antics along the way. Not until now did it occur to him just how distant Mozenrath's domain really was - it was on the farthest fringes of the Seven Deserts in a place nobody would ever have reason to go in the span of ten lifetimes. It was no wonder it had been treated as a fairytale in Agrabah for so long. It was so elusive, anyone with an ounce of sense would dismiss it as a myth.

"We have a genie, don't we?" Iago asked Cassim one day.

Cassim gave him an odd look. "Yes," he answered hesitantly.

"Then why can't we use him to zap us there? We could be there in a puff of smoke!" he complained.

On cue, Genie chimed in. "Because, Iago, Mozenrath set up a magical dampening field all around the Land of the Black Sand. As long as it's there, I can't teleport us past it. I hear it's all the rage with evil sorcerers these days," he added sarcastically.

"What about the rug? Couldn't we at least have taken it?"

"Carpet stays with Jasmine when we're gone. End of story," Genie said simply.

Iago wanted to press for more information, but he let the subject drop.

The sun hung in the sky like a heavy medallion, draping everyone with its golden cashmere. It was hard to think that just days ago, Iago had so cherished the sight of it; now, he just wanted it to disappear. Genie could keep the group supplied with water forever, of course, but that did nothing to relieve the heat. Every day topped the last in degree of temperature, and no man went more than a few minutes without wiping the sweat from his brow. For the most part, everyone tried to ignore it, though Iago and Abu had asked if there was anything Genie could do about it at one point. He had suggested creating a new breed of horses with on-board air conditioning. What that meant, Iago wasn't sure, but Aladdin had hastily put a stop to it when he reminded Genie of something called an _electric bill_. Nobody had spoken of the matter since.

Iago had a particularly difficult time adjusting to the heat. He had lived the last several months as a prisoner of the cavernous indoors and had grown unaccustomed to the scorching desert weather. To make matters worse, his body was still weak from his imprisonment at the palace. His muscles had atrophied, his bones had grown stiff, and he could only guess how much blood he had lost. He couldn't fly for more than a few minutes without becoming light-headed and falling out of the sky. As such, he was relegated to Cassim's shoulder for the length of the journey, which made time pass even slower than usual.

But neither his constricted environment nor his sweaty discomfort were foremost on Iago's mind. The subject that was central to all his thoughts and the force that was slowly consuming him from the inside-out was Mozenrath. There was something about him that made his blood run cold and his muscles shiver, even in the heat of the desert. Iago had never been fond of the sorcerer before, that was true enough. But this time, something was different. There was a primal urge buried deep within him that begged him with every fiber of his being to turn around and fly as fast as he could back to the headquarters of the Order. With every step the companions took forward, his mind screamed with more and more urgency that it was imperative for him to stop.

It was ironic. He had volunteered to travel with his friends because he was afraid to abandon them as he had abandoned Cassim at D'jel. He had _wanted_ to go to the Land of the Black Sand. Now, the very thought of that dark place repelled him.

_Too afraid to help your friends?__ How predictable of a traitor like you!_ a voice spat inside his head.

Then, he remembered Jasmine's words to him. "You can't let him win, Iago," she had said. "You can't let him win."

He told the voice to shut up.

The sun had nearly completed its graceful arc across the sapphire sky. Very soon, they would make camp. Iago relished the thought of it. He was tired, hungry, and dying to hear someone else's voice after a long day of quiet travel, even if it was Genie's he had to put up with. He could just picture the campfire now...

"_Marauders!_"

Iago snapped to attention long enough to catch a snatch of what was going on - the flourish of a crimson cape, the sight of an ebony mask, the ruby glimmer of a sword as it whisked through the air in the setting sunlight. Then, the horse beneath him buckled, and he was thrown off balance as it rose up onto its haunches. Before he knew it, he was falling. Before he could react, he was on the ground. He shook his head blankly and wondered what was going on, then looked up - just in time to see the horse's hoof falling, aimed straight for his head. With eyes of fear, he rolled to his right, and the hoof missed him by a millimeter. It left a deathly imprint in the sand where he had just been.

"What the _hell_ is going on - _hey!_" he cried as a hand grabbed him and lifted him into the air. The next thing he knew, he was back atop the horse, back atop Cassim's shoulder. His partner glared at him.

"Iago, try to be more careful. We're already in a dangerous situation here, and there's no need for you to go making it more so."

"Blame the horse, not me! That animal nearly _killed_ me!"

"The only animals here," Cassim said quietly, "are the ones surrounding us."

He whipped his head about, then dropped his jaw as he stared in the face of their adversaries. Seven - no, eight men sat astride nightmarish horses before them. One, whom Iago assumed to be the ringleader based upon his regal style of dress and many decorations of gold and silver, was separated from his cohorts. The rest of the pack had surrounded the members of the Order and were grinning maliciously at them in a way that was fitting for a band of thieves such as them. They wore robes of scarlet and obsidian battle armor, a color that matched that of their steeds. Half of them had even adorned themselves with facial paint that bore a suspicious resemblance to blood, and one or two wore devilish masks that obscured half of their faces. All of them had their hands on the hilts of their swords, with the exception of their commander, who merely stabbed at them with a smug look and a smile.

"They came out of nowhere," Cassim hissed. "I should have seen them coming from a mile away!"

Iago said nothing, but inched closer to Cassim, seeking to distance himself from the Marauders as possible. And for a moment, the desert was silent, save for the braying of the horses and the drumbeat of his own heart.

The hush was broken by the ringleader of the Marauders, who flashed Aladdin a cocky grin - a grin that was not unwarranted with the safety of fifteen yards between himself and the battlefield - then called out with unwary confidence, "Your gold and silver, noble travelers! I beg you to deliver it to me now. I would not want any blood spilled upon all this lovely sand."

"The only blood spilled this day shall be your own!" dinned Rasoul, reaching for his sword.

"Wait, Rasoul," Aladdin muttered. The elder man looked incredulous, but let his arm fall at ease.

Cassim tightened his legs on the horse, and it trotted forward to Aladdin's side. Iago noticed the Marauders that had been behind them advanced to close the distance. They were scoundrels, there was no doubt about that. But they were _trained_ scoundrels. Scoundrels with _experience_. And that made Iago all the more nervous.

"This is folly!" Cassim whispered to Aladdin. "Fighting them would mean needless bloodshed and a pointless risk. Genie, create some gold for us to give them. That way, they can go right on thinking they've robbed us, and we can go on our merry way."

Aladdin furrowed his brow in consideration.

"What's the matter, Cassim? Do you still hold some love for thieves deep down in that bloated heart of yours?" Rasoul mocked.

Cassim shot daggers at Rasoul, but held his tongue. "Why fight when there are easier solutions?" he said simply. "Why take life when we don't have to?"

"_Because they deserve it!_" the other man snarled.

"Then it's a good thing your own shallow opinions don't count for much around here, Rasoul," Cassim answered coldly.

With that remark, Aladdin scowled and addressed his father, "If I want a shallow opinion, _Dad_, I'll ask _you_." Then, he turned his back entirely on Cassim, gave a curt nod to Rasoul, and asked, "How many can you take out?"

Not for the first time that day, Iago was speechless. How could Aladdin show such disrespect to his own father? Furthermore, how could he so graciously put all their lives in jeopardy over nothing? He was not the only one to have such a reaction; Genie looked disappointed, and Cassim was just plain furious as he turned away to square off with the nearest Marauder, a hearty man twice his size and half his age with muscles rivaling those of Rasoul.

But Aladdin had neither regard nor conscience for his predicament as he waited intently for his general's input.

"Four," Rasoul surmised as he peered begrudgingly at his nearest opponent. "Three if one of them gets lucky, but I doubt any will. These desert brigands look like bears and fight like shrews. Besides, _we_ have the King of Thieves on our side! If they manage to get the upper hand, he can always get down on hands and knees and beg for our lives as a coward would," he finished snidely.

Aladdin brushed his bangs out of his face. Iago noticed his eyes were coal black, seeming to suck all the darkness out of the air around him as he stared into the face of the enemy. For a moment, the parrot was unnerved.

"Attack on my signal."

Iago felt his heart lurch. Aladdin had never been one to shirk from a fight, but he had never seized on the chance of a confrontation purely for the sake of confronting someone before, either. Distantly, he wondered whether his long battle with Jafar had made him so dour and hostile - or was something else to blame?

_Thinking badly about your benefactor, Iago? Thinking badly about the one you betrayed over and over again? If it weren't for him, you'd still be back in that laboratory, nailed to that wall - exactly where you deserve to be!_

He shuddered.

The ringleader stirred atop his horse, his brash smile having turned into an impatient scowl some time ago. Impatient, he hollered, and the wind carried his voice across the dunes, "This is your last chance, migrants! Will it be your valuables or your heads?"

Aladdin decried as a magistrate would in condemning a felon, "You demand we turn over our valuables? It would give me no greater pleasure! I'd be happy to give you a dole of silver - right through the heart!" He unsheathed his silver scimitar and raised it high into the air for all his comrades to see, then within the confines of a warrior's voice, let pierce the air a thunderous war cry as he galloped forth to meet his nemeses. All around, the other members of the Order were doing the same.

But Iago was unaware of it.

His eyes remained transfixed on the silver blade. His soul was utterly captivated by it - by its fiery glimmer as the light reflected off the garish metal; by its movement as it cleaved through the air like a buzzard, diving faster and faster to feast upon its prey; by the whistle that it made as it swept toward its target, whose eyes were filled with the utmost horror because he knew he was absolutely powerless to stop it. But more than that, he was captivated by the expression on Aladdin's face. Those baneful eyes, that threatening smirk, that expression so twisted and misshapen by vengeance that it turned his otherwise handsome face into that of a monster...

He had seen them all before.

And they chilled him to the bone.

He noticed a harrowing light out of the corner of his eye, and with difficulty, craned his neck to catch a glimpse of it was. What he saw caused him to yelp in fright: there was Jafar treading wickedly to his side, a satisfied and vengeful expression on his face, a malevolent and saw-like dagger in his fist. The blade shone silver through the darkness and seemed to radiate evil. It illuminated all of Jafar's most sinister features and instilled a fear neither of earth or heaven in Iago's heart. Overcome with terror, the parrot tried to back away, but his fright kept him rooted in place. Besides, when he took in the scope of the laboratory, it was obvious there was nowhere to run.

Jafar was going to claim the revenge he was entitled to, and Iago was going to receive the end he rightfully deserved.

"It's time you were served your just rewards, Iago," he intoned as he smirked down at him. "You have _earned_ what you have coming to you, you pitiful, worthless traitor!"

And then, with a madman's face, he raised the dagger high into the air -

Iago squeezed his eyes shut and shielded himself with his wings. He knew all to well what was about to happen. He had lived it once before, and living it again made him want to throw up. The agony, the despair, and the imperishable regret he had felt that day would never be erased from his memory, but now, it seemed, he was in for a second serving of it.

He wasn't convinced whether or not he deserved it anymore. He wasn't sure whether he deserved to die for serving Jafar, for betraying Aladdin, Jasmine, and the rest of his friends, for abandoning Cassim at D'jel, and for all the other traitorous deeds he'd done in his life. It was a question he chose not to think about. But since his conversation with Jasmine, he _was_ certain that he didn't want it. And so, as he lied there, awaiting the inevitable, the only thing he wished for was that he could go on living. Part of him cried out that such self-perservance was selfish, but then, he remembered what Jasmine had said to him. He would not let Jafar win.

But the dagger never fell. The pain never came.

Cautiously, he opened one eye, then the other.

Infinite blackness encompassed him. The very sight of it made him tremble. He had only experienced such an absence of light once before in his lifetime, that occasion having been when he had been struck by Jazel's lightning ball and found himself isolated, alone, the solitary occupant of a dead world devoid of kindness, compassion, and joy. Momentarily, Iago wondered whether Jafar had killed him. But he did not recall having been struck by the dagger, and the beating of his heart was still very loud in his head. He had not died. But if that was true, then how did he get here? And just where _was_ here?

It was a trick. It had to be. There was no other explanation. Jafar was probably just beyond the veil of darkness, waiting for Iago to call out. And when he did, he would appear before him, dagger in hand, and finish him off. Jafar took delight in taking Iago by surprise. It wouldn't be unlike him to lead his prisoner to think he was safe, then appear out of nowhere and riddle him with pain. Iago tensed as this occurred to him, and he tried to shield himself with his wings again, only to realize they were chained down.

Then, he discerned a shape amid all the black. A man was trudging slowly toward him through the darkness - a man draped with a heavy black cloak. His movements were slow and he walked at a leisurely pace, and there was a mannerism about him that showed that he knew the world would wait for him no matter how much he took his time. As he came nearer, Iago felt his trepidation grow more and more. There was a primal urge buried deep within him that begged him to turn around and fly away as fast as he could. With every step he took forward, his mind screamed with more and more urgency that it was imperative for him to stop. There was something evil about the man - something that filled the parrot with terrible loathing. The shadows themselves seemed to leap out of his path as he walked closer.

But much more horrible than the man was the object he grasped in his hand: a knife, silver, curved and serrated, gleaming with radiance through the gloom.

The moment Iago's eyes fell upon the dagger, he snapped. He thrashed and he writhed and he twisted and he scuffled, but despite his best efforts to free himself, the shackles that bound him held firm. He screamed with all his zeal and begged with all his passion that someone might come to his rescue, but there was no one to save him. And despite it all, the cloaked figure drew ever nearer; now, he was a mere twenty feet away. Iago continued to struggle, but his energy was wasted. There was no way out, and he knew it. He languished in despair as all hope within him was snuffed out like a candle. His heart in his chest was as heavy as the chains that weighed him down. Ten feet. Just ten feet away. He prayed to the Almighty that this torture might end and simultaneously cursed Him for allowing him to be put through it in the first place. He knew he wasn't thinking with logic, but logic took back seat to the fear flowing through his veins and crashing like brutal waves against his senses. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die.

The man came to a stop before him. He stopped so close that every inhale, every exhale, every twitch he made was plainly and painfully observed by Iago with baited breath. So close that Iago could behold his own reflection in the dagger and distinguish his own terrified expression amidst the luster of the silvery blade.

Then, he held the dagger to the parrot's trembling neck.

And that was when Iago knew he was going to die.

The vaguest part of him had expected the pain would not come - that like Jafar, the cloaked figure would vanish into thin air, leaving him alive, if a little mortified. As the dagger cut into the crest of his throat, bringing tears to his eyes and sending shockwaves of unendurable pain to each corner of his body, it dawned on him how inexorably wrong he had been. Fire raced down every nerve and set every pain sensor ablaze with hot, burning agony. Iago hissed and arched his back, which only served to drive the blade deeper into his throat. He tried to call for help, but was too overcome with anguish to form a coherent sentence. He wanted to howl in pain, but despite the magnitude of what he was feeling, his vocal cords refused to work. Before, he had been unable to see much of anything in the lightless void, but now he felt his vision go blacker still as a familiar darkness enclosed upon him...

"Get 'im, Smaug! He wanted gold, so give it to him! And don't stop until you've chased him all the way back to the Lonely Mountain! Haha!"

And then, just as quickly, he found himself back in the middle of the desert.

Iago blinked several times as the sudden light laid waste to his retinas, and at long last, he found he could move his wings and raised them to protect himself. When his vision returned to him, he swiveled his head back and forth to figure out where he was, and more importantly, where the cloaked man had gone. Only one of these things was evident to him, that being that he was lying on his back on the sand at least fifty feet away from Aladdin and the rest of the group... or was he? Briefly, he wondered whether what he was seeing was real or whether it was just another hallucination as the last two illusions he had been smacked with had been. After thinking about it, he dismissed the thought. This certainly didn't _feel_ like an illusion. But then, neither had it felt like an illusion when the dagger's razor teeth cut into his throat. He paled as he remembered what had just happened to him and mortally rubbed his neck; needless to say, he was relieved to find it intact. But that didn't answer any questions.

He spied a black shape in the distance out of the corner of his eye. He worried at first that it might be the cloaked man, but when he squinted and looked at it properly, he realized it was none other than the ringleader of the Marauders perched daintily upon his midnight stallion, fleeing the site of the battle. Just then, he was overwhelmed by the booming sound of a colossal earth-rattling _roar_, and he looked up - only to be overwhelmed again when an enormous red dragon appeared above him out of thin air. It flapped its powerful wings up and down, nearly picking Iago up and blowing him away in the gusts of wind it generated. Then, puffing smoke from its nostrils and bursting flame from its jaws, it bore down upon the retreating Marauder, snatched him up off his horse in its massive claws, and carried him off into the distance. Iago watched in awe as the two of them faded into the horizon.

"You okay, Iago?" Genie asked.

Iago was caught off-guard by the question, having been too sidetracked by the spectacle before him to hear Genie approach from behind. He snapped his head around to face him, and in doing so realized he must have been quite a sight to see himself, staring up into the sky as he cowered on the ground with his wings raised over him for no apparent reason.

"I - yes. No. Yes," he said with uncertainty. Then, he decided to take the cynical approach: "Don't I look alright to you, clown? I just like the shade from my wings, and the battle was too noisy, so I came over here! What's your excuse for looking like an idiot?"

"The battle's been over for five minutes," Genie snapped back. "But if you'd like, I can take you back to where the battle was fought and reunite you with the group. You must be aching to spend some time with them. I mean, you seemed put as much distance between them and yourself as you could the moment those Marauders showed up, but I'm sure that didn't mean _anything_. I mean, shade is just a heck of a lot more pressing an issue than fighting to save your friends' lives, right?"

Iago goggled at what Genie was saying. Then, he found himself stewing with sudden contempt for himself. First and foremost, he was furious at himself for lashing out so violently at Genie, whom it was obvious had only wanted to help before the parrot verbally attacked him. However, not far behind that, his anger was derived from exactly what he had been accused of. It was true he had not been seeking shade, as he had so pathetically made up to hide his own fear and confusion. But that was no excuse for not being there to protect those he loved. What if something had gone wrong? What if the Marauders had won the battle and all his friends had been killed? What would his excuse have been? That he had been so overcome with fright and anxiety that he let himself be conquered by flashbacks and hallucinations while everyone he cared about died around him? That was no excuse at all. He would have been responsible for having let them be killed...

_...just like the traitor you are!_

"It's okay. I think... I think I can fly," he mustered.

Genie must have seen the sadness in his eyes, because he looked apologetic and even regretful the moment the words came out of Iago's mouth. But Iago was in the air before Genie could say a thing. He kicked off from the ground and took flight, the air tearing beneath his wings at the same time his own bitter emotions were tearing through his mind, leaving his blue companion quite literally in the dust.

However, self-hatred was not Iago's foremost concern. As he flew across the dunes to rejoin Aladdin and the rest of the group, his mind drifted back to that lightless veil of fear and pain, back to the man in the black cloak. It had seemed so real, so vivid, so insufferably _there_ when the dagger had... He stopped at that thought, the imagery of what had befallen him compelling him to think to further, the pain still echoing throughout him sealing the matter at once. It chilled him to picture what had happened, so he chose not to picture it. But had it indeed happened?

Iago had seen the man in the black cloak before. That much, he was certain of. He had seen him in a dream when he was still a prisoner in Jafar's laboratory, just after the bout of torture that took away his talon. It had slipped from his mind soon afterward, himself having been far more preoccupied fighting the horrors that enclosed upon him when he was awake to ponder those that haunted his sleep. But having just relived it firsthand, the previous confrontation hit him like a slap in the face. Yes, he had seen the man in the black cloak before in a dream.

But what had just happened had been much more than a dream.

Was it magic? Iago wasn't sure, and that much scared him. He had practiced dark magic for years under Jafar, taking in the various poisons and remedies, absorbing the curses and the counter-curses - in more ways than one. More than a decade of his life had been spent trying to understand the principles and eccentricities of the arcane under the vizier's watchful eye, until at last he had accepted him as a willing partner. In many ways, he was just as learned a sorcerer as Jafar. The appearance of the man and the black cloak and... and what had come afterward... bore all the hallmarks of the dark arts. Yet Iago could not identify it. Part of him chose to believe he was simply not thinking clearly enough to pinpoint the answer. But more than a fraction of him grasped and held onto the unspoken truth, even if that truth did scare him half to death: this was something far beyond Iago, something much older and much more powerful than any of the black magic he was familiar with.

He circled in the sky for more than a minute, collecting his thoughts and trying to piece back together his sanity. Then, he tucked back his wings and began a sharp descent to where the group was gathered far below. As his friends grew larger in his field of vision, he concluded that he really had no idea what had happened to him. He probably had more questions now than he had before. He certainly had more questions than answers.

But as he came in for a landing on Cassim's shoulder, he realized there _was _one fact he had learned from the experience. Unfortunately, it was the one thing he had put off the most and wanted to acknowledge the least, for it simultaneously complicated the mystery and compounded his dread. However much he wanted to ignore it, though, it was impossible to deny forever.

He had _seen_ under the hood of the black cloak, and _what_ he had seen worried and perplexed him more than anything.

The man under the hood was Mozenrath.

---

"Damn it, Genie, for the last time, I'm fine. Now leave me alone."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Cassim! Nurse Genie will patch you up in a jiffy! Now show me your arm so I can make it all better."

Genie hovered over Cassim with gleaming eyes and a toothy grin, his expression radiating warmth like heat from a furnace on a chilly day. He had taken on the nimble frame of a young woman dressed in a white skirt, white blouse, and white cap with a red cross imprinted in the center. From the dialogue Genie and Cassim were sharing, Iago guessed they were the garments of a nurse, though he couldn't recall ever seeing anyone wear something so outlandish. They definitely weren't the sort of clothes _his_ nurse had worn when the Order had nurtured him back to health. But then again, his nurse had been a crazy old bat.

Cassim backed away from Genie, the long, bloody gash running down his right arm concealed behind his back, his eyes trained on the brownish-greenish bottle clutched in Genie's hand that bore the ominous label, _Iodine_. His stubbornness served as a spectacle for the rest of the companions, who watched the scene in amusement from their seats around the smoking campfire. A faint smile graced Aladdin's normally cross face, Rasoul guffawed at Cassim's plight in-between bites of roast mutton, and Abu had even bet Iago over which one would give up before the other; Iago, of course, had put his money on Cassim. His friend looked willing to fight to the death to prevent Genie from treating his wound. But then again, Genie's advance matched Cassim's retreat, and he wasn't taking no for an answer.

"You don't have to be scared, Cassim. It won't hurt a bit! I promise!"

"I said no, Genie. You'd have to lock me up before I let you touch me with that... that... whatever it is. Now go away," Cassim defiantly announced.

Genie stopped in his tracks and scratched his head, considering what Cassim had said. Then, he shrugged, smiled, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, a sinister metal chair not unlike one of the contraptions Iago had seen in Jafar's laboratory burst out of the sand underneath Cassim, and he fell back into it with a cry. Heavy shackles automatically reached out and bound his ankles and wrists in place. He lurched forward, but got nowhere, and all of his struggles to break the constraints were met with similar frustration.

"Let me go, Genie," demanded Cassim.

"I'm sorry Cassim, but I had to do this! Now relax and it will all be over quickly..."

"Genie, I'm not in the mood for your jokes. Now let me - _argh_"

He was taken by surprise when Genie suddenly wet a cotton swab with the Iodine and began furiously scrubbing the wound back and forth, making sure not to miss a spot. Cassim hissed and arched his back in pain, his entire body in an apparent state of agony as the mysterious chemical worked its way into his skin. Genie paid this no heed, however, and continued to apply the Iodine until the wound was cleansed of blood. He then set the bottle and cotton swabs aside, pulled a roll of gauze out of thin air, and proceeded to bandage Cassim's arm until the gash was completely concealed. Only then did he release his patient from his shackles.

Cassim looked from his bandaged right arm to the throng of people laughing at him back at the campfire, then cast a murderous glare toward Genie. Wincing out of pain, fury or both, he yelled, "Genie, I'm going to _kill_ you!"

At that moment, Genie thrust a green sucker into Cassim's mouth, cutting him off before he could make good on his threat. The King of Thieves promptly spit the candy out and wiped his lips on his sleeve, but the severity of his face was unwavering.

Abu turned haughtily to Iago and held out his hand in acceptance of his winnings.

"What? I thought it was a gentleman's bet!" Iago said in feigned disbelief.

The monkey scoffed and beckoned to his hand, still awaiting the money he had won.

Iago folded his wings across his chest and indignantly responded, "Well, you don't have to be so impatient about it! I'll wager ten dinari you think I'm too cheap to pay up."

At this remark, Abu's kind face turned as sour as Cassim's. He chattered irately and began to throw a fit, his clenched fists flailing in the air like maddened hornets searching for soft flesh to bury themselves in. At one point, he even took off his hat and began jumping up and down on it. He spat out words barely intelligible in his enraged state, words like _cheat _and _fraud_ and _swindle_. Indeed, he possessed all the distemper of a child throwing a tantrum. And like a child, he also bore the hallmark of gullibility, for in his frenzy over Iago's apparent disinterest in paying him, he was also lured effortlessly into Iago's trap.

"See? You _do_ think I'm too cheap to pay up. And now you owe me ten dinari," the parrot smiled smugly.

It took a few seconds for Abu to realize what Iago was talking about. He sank to his knees and let out a long moan when he finally did, then covered his eyes, too upset at himself for making such a stupid mistake to face the world.

Meanwhile, Genie and Cassim seemed to have reconciled, as they were sitting next to one another instead of reaching for one another's throats. Although still visibly annoyed, Cassim sheltered his bandaged limb in his lap and said to Genie in a low voice, "This thing hurts. How long will it take to heal?"

"Give it five days. A week tops," Genie shrugged. "The sword he hit you with went though the muscle like a knife through butter. You're lucky it didn't reach the bone. I treated the cut to guard against infection and speed the healing process, but I still don't recommend you use your arm before it's healthy again, unless being in a constant state of pain really strikes your fancy. There's only so much magic can do, you know."

"I can't believe you even let one of them take a swing at you," Rasoul chided. "If I'd been in your shoes, I would've run him through before he got within ten feet of me."

"Not difficult for a gorilla like you to accomplish. Apes have longer arms than humans, after all," Cassim volleyed back.

"If humanity includes swine as crooked as yourself, Cassim, then I'm glad to call myself an ape!" Rasoul snapped through gritted teeth.

Genie took the form of a decrepit old lady with silvery hair done up in a bun atop his head and thick black-rimmed spectacles perched on his gargantuan nose. His drab, conservative style of dress only served to divert attention to his face, which, aside from being as wrinkled as a prune, also seemed to hang off his skull with age. Menacingly, he bared the few teeth he had left at Rasoul and Cassim, then stepped between them, exposing them both to the well-ingrained smell of chalk that lingered about her like perfume.

"Boys, if I hear another peep out of either of you, it's going to mean big trouble. Trust me, you wouldn't want me to have to introduce you to... _the paddle_."

A carved wooden cudgel appeared magically in his hands, and he held it up in the air threateningly as though he were going to bring it down on someone's head.

"Yes, yes, Genie. We get the point," Cassim said.

"Good!" Genie shouted, and the paddle disappeared. "Just remember, boys, fighting is not allowed in school! It sets a bad example for the other children. Now go run around and set off firecrackers or something while I have a smoke."

He pulled a lighter out of his vest pocket and used it to light a cigarette in his mouth, then fanned the smoke until it enveloped him completely. When it dispersed, he had returned to his regular body.

"Even if Cassim doesn't think so, it was a good fight," Rasoul proclaimed for everyone to hear. "I only wish I'd been able to take one more of them down before the genie started turning them all into jack-in-the-boxes and putting them in - what did he call it? The cornfield?"

Again, Genie disappeared behind a veil of smoke and re-emerged as a six-year-old blonde-haired boy in a cotton shirt and slacks. "Happy thoughts. You must think _only_ happy thoughts," he ordered, the words dripping off his tongue like the surname of wickedness. He then reassumed his regular form, leaving everyone oblivious as to the true meaning of the joke.

Rasoul coughed abruptly to regain everyone's attention before he carried on, "Just the same, I still wish I'd killed one more of those vermin. Five is a much more round number than four, after all. Besides, the more blood I spill today, the more ready I'll be to spill blood tomorrow when we're in real danger."

"There shouldn't have been any blood spilled today at all. It was an unnecessary risk," a commanding voice asserted from behind Iago. At first, he was certain Cassim had said it. But when he glanced over his shoulder, he was taken by surprise to find the words of empathy had been spoken by none other than Aladdin.

If Iago was caught off guard, Rasoul was equally as astounded. "But you thought the risk didn't matter! You agreed with me!" he huffed, almost choking on a bite of his dinner.

Aladdin's eyes met Cassim's, and for an instant, the parrot thought he saw a glint of genuine regret there in place of all the hostility and resentment that usually characterized them. But his gaze shifted to head off Rasoul's disbelieving stare, and whatever remorse Aladdin had felt was replaced by the same harshness Iago had come to know him so well for.

Wordlessly, he headed into a nearby tent and zipped up the entrance.

Rasoul gaped at the sealed tent with astonishment. A flake of mutton tumbled from his open-mouth and settled in the net of his beard. Iago watched him with equal puzzlement as to the nature of Aladdin' motives. He had sided with Rasoul earlier that day. He had leapt at the chance to slay the Marauders. Iago wondered what could be behind such a change of heart.

As the bird pondered, Rasoul's eyes traveled across the faces of the remaining companions until he met Iago's stare. His lip curled and he snarled pugnaciously, "What are _you_ looking at?"

"Nothing," Iago snidely retorted. "I am looking at nothing at all."

Rasoul obviously didn't grasp the true meaning of what Iago had said, because he seemed satisfied with the answer. He pitched what was left of his roast mutton into the fire, cracked his knuckles, and marched into his own tent without another word, forcefully zipping the crevice shut behind him.

Iago glowered at the door of Rasoul's tent. "He's still the same ray of sunshine he always was, isn't he?"

Genie laughed. "Some of us have changed. Some of us haven't," he smiled.

"So I've noticed," Iago said, thinking again of Aladdin and his enthusiasm for gambling their lives on the outcome of a pointless battle. The choice to fight was baffling to him. But then again, maybe he was just being a coward. It was no mystery the trip was wearing on him; since the day he had set out with Cassim, a tiredness like molten lead had begun to settle in his veins, in his limbs, in his heart. And with every mile the companions covered on their unrelenting journey ever-forward across the desert, the dam of anxiety within Iago felt more and more ready to burst.

"How far are we from Mozenrath's place, anyway?" he asked casually.

At once, Genie snapped into action. He began a series of transformations, appearing first as a hardened explorer in khaki pants, shirt, and hat with an elephant gun propped up on his shoulder and a compass grasped prominently in his hand, then as a swarthy man in the ragged garb of a sailor with a spyglass pressed to his eye, then as a silver-haired fellow with thick spectacles and a long, white coat charting out a course on a map.

"By mein calculashuns, ve should arrive vithin zix-decimal-zeven earth dayz," he announced in a mock German accent, working out the complex math on a chalkboard and circling the answer several times over. "Any other questionz?"

Iago frowned and tilted his head to one side. "Yeah, actually, there is one," he mentioned.

"Shoot!"

"I've seen the kind of power that Jafar has and I've seen the tango you and your little order have been dancing with him all these years. What I can't figure out is how it _ever _came to be this way. When did Jafar come back? How did he take over Agrabah? How did this even _start?_"

Genie let out a long breath of air and shifted back to his original body. His jovial attitude spent, he sunk back into his chair, wrapped his arms around the back of his neck, and stared off into space as if contemplating some deep riddle of the universe. "Y'know, I knew you were bound to ask that question one of these days, Iago. I just wish I wasn't the one you asked," he said half-jokingly.

"I'm sure you've told the story plenty of times to new members of the Order," Iago breathed with the slightest hint of mockery.

"Not really. Our member count tends to go down a lot more often than it goes up," explained Genie with matching sarcasm. "But I suppose it is a tale that deserves to be told."

"And so it must," Cassim asserted.

The wrinkles in Genie's forehead deepened as his head bobbed up and down in accord. "Indeed," he responded with uncharacteristic sincerity. And for a long time after that, he said nothing else. The air around the encampment was permeated with a euphonic silence whose symphony none of the three friends desired to interrupt, a silence that persisted in their ears over the crackling of the dying campfire, the hum of the hot breeze that swept across the dunes from the West and wove tangles in Cassim's hair, and even the obnoxious string of snores that emanated from Rasoul's exaggerated tent. Finally, when Iago was on the verge of reminding him of the question he had posed, Genie regained his voice, though he didn't have much to say:

"Hmm. What's a good place to start?" he thought out loud.

Iago rolled his eyes and suggested with his usual cynicism, "Where I left would be helpful."

Genie smiled, "I guess it would. Okay, I'll start there."

And so he did.

"When Aladdin and Jasmine were joined in holy matrimony, all of Agrabah was united in celebration. The peasants and the paupers were elated that finally, there was someone they could depend on to fight for their well-being in the Palace, someone who wouldn't judge them based on their poverty-stricken backgrounds or how little they contributed to the city taxman each year. And the nobles, too, felt safe with Jasmine at Aladdin's side to look out for them, to protect their interests and ensure they kept their wealth and status. The most unlikely pair turned out to be the most likable couple to lead Agrabah. Their union united much more than two people. It united the upper and lower classes in a way nobody ever thought possible. You don't remember, Iago, because you and Cassim took off right after the ceremony, but people were partying in the streets for _ages_ afterward. The festivities lasted a whole year. And they only became that much louder when, in the ninth month, it was learned that Jasmine was going to give birth to a child."

Genie exhaled, "But... it wasn't to last."

"A child!" Iago exclaimed. "What happened?"

"It was the evening of their daughter's first birthday," Genie continued. "Aladdin had been sultan for almost two years at that time, and he made the decision to throw a grand banquet in celebration of his baby girl. All of Agrabah was invited to the Palace to attend the young princess' birthday party. Not one guest was turned away. I've never seen Aladdin and Jasmine happier than when they were together that night. They never seemed more in love."

"And then?"

Genie took a big breath and sighed. "And then, I made the discovery that their daughter had been kidnapped."

Iago's eyes widened. He looked from Genie to Cassim and back again, willing himself to find some trace of deception in their eyes, that what he had just been told might turn out to be some kind of a joke. He found none. Indeed, Genie had never looked more grave than he did now, nor more defeated. His visage appeared tired and worn out, as though recanting the story had somehow sapped him of his vigor, and his features hung low on his face. Cassim, similarly, sat lifeless in front of the campfire and stared into its depths without movement, without expression, his soul lost somewhere in its dancing red flames. Iago wondered what thoughts inhabited his mind now - or more fittingly, what he had felt when this story was told to him for the first time. How crushing must it have been for him to discover that he was a grandfather, only to learn a short while later that his granddaughter had been kidnapped without a trace? Iago bore no relation to Aladdin and Jasmine's child, and news of her disappearance was still enough to floor him - six years after the fact, no less.

"Aladdin and Jasmine were devastated," Genie said somberly, "as was the entire kingdom. The jubilance that had thrived since the wedding withered and died like a flower robbed of sunshine, and a heavy depression fell over all of Agrabah. Aladdin took the loss of his daughter particularly hard. Not that anyone else took it easy, mind you, but I think he blamed himself more than anyone for what happened. He was the one who decided to open the doors of the Palace to everyone and anyone that night, whether they were rich, poor, old, young, able-bodied, handicapped, or a kidnapper in disguise. It's incredible how the happiest day of his life also turned out to be the saddest."

"I should have been there," Cassim interrupted. "I should have been there to defend her from that monster, or at least to hold her once! Instead, I was off chasing fame and fortune while my entire family was being torn apart a thousand miles away -"

Genie sighed again and shook his head. "There was no way you could have known, Cassim. You were, as you said, a thousand miles away. Besides, if anyone's to blame for what happened, it's me. I was the only one there with the power to truly protect her, and I let him snatch her away right under my nose."

"It's more than that," Cassim hissed as he met Genie's eyes. "I neglected my family for _years_ while I was off gallivanting around with the Forty Thieves and searching for the Hand of Midas. In that time, I lost my wife and I almost lost my son. When I found Aladdin, he showed me that my family was more precious than any metal, and I was angry at myself because I realized what I had lost and how much time I had wasted! I swore never to repeat my past mistakes, never to put my family last again. And then, I turned my back on him, and my family was destroyed for the second time in my life - again, without my even being there!"

"You were a wanted man in Agrabah, Cassim. You couldn't go back."

"I was wanted everywhere, Genie. And as Iago will tell you, we didn't exactly spend our days hiding under rocks. I was just a fool." With that, he folded his arms and returned his gaze to the campfire. "I could've gone back anytime," he mumbled, "and I didn't."

Silence hung in the air as thick as the smoke from the campfire. For an eternity, nobody said a thing. Genie and Cassim were dead to the world, and Iago had been stripped of his ability to speak by the staggering tale he had just been told. Eventually he did regain it, though he could scarcely manage a whisper. "What happened then?" he asked quietly.

Genie's voice was equally soft as he continued the story. "Aladdin wasn't content to languish in grief. He turned Agrabah upside-down looking for his daughter, and when he didn't find her, he scoured the rest of the Seven Deserts. Carpet, Abu, and myself went with him on his journeys, and Jasmine took responsibility for governing the kingdom while the four of us were away. We traveled near and far and left no stone unturned searching for her. But it wasn't enough.

"Three years to the day after the kidnapping, Aladdin made the heavy-hearted decision to return to Agrabah early so he could be there to comfort his wife. The rest of us agreed, and with Carpet's help, the journey back only lasted a few short hours."

Genie hesitated for a moment, and a dark look crossed his face. Iago listened attentively as his story reached its climax: "We arrived to find Agrabah in shambles. As we flew in from the south, we found the city gates reduced to mere splinters and every single wall demolished. The marketplace had been completely destroyed by the time we passed by it. There wasn't a trace of it left, save for one charred, black crater where it and the surrounding buildings had once stood. Smoke rose from every structure and turned the sky as black. But the bodies were visible, plain as day. Old and young, man, woman, and child - they littered the streets and alleyways, each and every one of them slaughtered unmercifully and with no regard for human life. The few still living roamed the fields of the dead searching for husbands, wives, sons, and daughters, none of whom would ever come home to them again. In all my years as a genie, I've never seen anything more gruesome.

"We made haste toward the Palace. Aladdin was frantic. He needed to find Jasmine to make sure she was still alive, not to mention find out what had befallen the kingdom while we were away. As one, we entered the throne room, and as one, we were speechless at what we saw: Jasmine lay facedown in a pool of her own blood, lifeless and comatose. Over her, as you may have guessed by now, stood Jafar. And at his side, the four-year old girl Aladdin had dedicated his life to searching for, her hands coated with her own mother's blood."

"Wait, wait - _what?_" Iago choked.

"You know who she is, Iago," Genie told him. "You've met her."

Iago stared out across the distant dunes, his eyes glazed over sullenly. After a long pause, he nodded knowingly and replied, "Jazel."

"It wasn't enough for Jafar to come back from the dead and kill everyone. That isn't his style. Jafar likes to cause his enemies to suffer before he murders them, to turn their nightmares into cold-blooded reality and bring their world crashing down around them. Once, that meant appearing to Aladdin as his true love, Jasmine, and personally handing him a death sentence. This time, his wrath was much more horrific. Stealing Jazel from her cradle in the middle of the night was devastating to Aladdin and Jasmine. Training her to be a subservient little sorceress and a pawn in taking over Agrabah was twisted in its own right. But for Aladdin to be confronted with his daughter after three years of guilt and loss only for her to be a follower of his greatest enemy and the assassin of his own wife... That was too much to bear. I think something inside Aladdin died that day, and he hasn't been quite the same since."

"But Jasmine is still alive," Iago pointed out.

Genie cracked a smile. "We all thought she was dead. She came darn close, I'll tell you that. But with Nurse Genie on the job, you can bet you're in good hands. Besides, Jazel may have been trained by an inhuman monster, but I don't think she could bring herself to kill her own mother. No more than she could bring herself to kill you, Iago. There is good buried in her soul; she just doesn't have the hope to dig it up. Who would after being raised in the midst of so much evil?"

"Yeah. I know," Iago murmured, recalling the horrors of Jafar's laboratory. He had only been subjected to that sort pain for three months. Jazel had faced it every day for three _years_ by the time Jafar conquered Agrabah, and she had faced them for _another_ three years since then. Iago couldn't imagine how she was able to show him kindness after being exposed to such cruelty in her life. Was the kind-hearted girl that slipped him breadcrumbs when he was starving and shared her dreams of glorious dragons really the one that had nearly murdered Jasmine three years ago? It didn't seem possible.

Then again, hadn't he been in the same position at one time? Like Jazel, he had been torn away from his parents at a tender age and been raised by Jafar as his surrogate father. He had grown up in the confines of Jafar's malice and distemper, lived amidst the same unquenchable hostility and insatiable despair. He had been manipulated as well in order to carry out dark deeds and further the vizier's heinous machinations, the bearer of misfortune to Aladdin, the Royal Family, and the rest of Jafar's many enemies. And over time, he had also taken over Jafar's own ambitions and goals. Genie's story may have proved a shocking tale on its own, but the parallels Iago discerned between himself and Aladdin's daughter were equally as staggering.

"It's almost eerie how alike we are," Iago noted, frowning.

"That's the promise of history," Cassim said darkly, startling Iago with the suddenness of his voice. "It always repeats itself."

Genie forged ahead with the narrative, not bothering to wait for Iago to ask for further explanation. "Jafar's plan was meticulous, but not foolproof. There were several things he hadn't counted on. First, he hadn't anticipated Aladdin to return to Agrabah early. We weren't due to show up in town for another day at least, by which time Jafar would have had all of Agrabah in chains and squashed any resistance before it had the chance to take shape. As much sick pleasure as he got out of seeing Aladdin walk in on what looked to be his wife's murder scene, it didn't do him any good, because he wasn't prepared for it. Second of all, he hadn't expected Rasoul to stand up to him. The attack made cowards out of most of the Royal Guard, and the few who didn't make tracks away from the city were either bribed or threatened to Jafar's side. But Rasoul opposed him and held the remaining defenses together until shortly before we arrived, which delayed Jafar considerably. On top of that, he hadn't expected for _you_ to be gone, Iago."

"For _me_ to be gone?" Iago parroted back. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"As soon as Jafar captured the Palace and established himself as the dominant power in the land, he went bonkers trying to find you. He firmly believed you were still in Agrabah, and he was obsessed with capturing you and taking you prisoner. In fact, he was so obsessed that he turned the Palace upside-down in search of you. When he didn't find you there, he ordered the city ransacked until you turned up. He entrusted your description to every spy that was committed to him, along with the order that they were to report to him if they ever came across you. Of course, you weren't anywhere near Agrabah at the time. You were traveling the Seven Deserts with Cassim. Because of that, all of Jafar's efforts to locate you were wasted. He was furious - not only because he couldn't pay you back for what you did to him, but because all of the manpower it took to mount his enormous search was diverted from the battle against Rasoul. He could have crushed the resistance before it ever had the chance to thrive and blossom into the Order of the Lamp, but because most of the forces that had deserted to his side were off on some wild goose chase, he missed his chance. Guess that would make it a parrot chase in your case, wouldn't it?"

"Spare me the bad jokes," Iago winced.

"Suit yourself," Genie said, a thin smile crossing his dour features. He then went on, "There was one more thing Jafar hadn't planned on, though. Other than not capturing us when we showed up on his doorstep and surprised him, that is. I think Jafar truly believed Aladdin would give up when all was said and done. He thought taking away everything Aladdin had to his name - his family, his reputation, his people, his kingdom, and his throne - would leave him a broken man.

"Needless to say, it was a pretty big shock at first, but he rebounded from it, just as he rebounds from all things. It's not in Aladdin's nature to leave the guilty in power while the innocent are being terrorized, after all. Aladdin is nobler than that, and stronger. And it was that strength that led he and I to seek out Rasoul and create the Order of the Lamp, made up of what remained of the resistance and anyone else who could be counted on to lift a sword to fight the war against Jafar. And the rest is history."

"History," Iago muttered.

Iago had seen with his own eyes just how diabolical Jafar could be. As wretched as Jafar's first plot for revenge had been, this one bore the mark of the devil incarnate.

At last, Iago thought he understood why Aladdin sneered at him. He had grown up a street rat deprived of wealth, status, kin, and companionship. When he met Jasmine, all four were simultaneously handed to him on a silver platter, and for the first time in his life, he found happiness. But Jafar had stolen it all away, leaving Aladdin with only a shard of his newfound family to support him: Jasmine. What parts of himself had been left hollow by Jafar's nefarious scheme, Aladdin had filled in with his own unquenchable thirst for revenge.

Having suffered as he had, how could he not think less of Iago? Despite Jasmine's assurances of his own good nature, Aladdin probably viewed the parrot as a symbol of Jafar's evil, an extension of Jafar's power, and a painful reminder of what Jafar had done to his wife and daughter - in short, nearly everything Iago hated himself for. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen it before?

The guilt in Cassim's eyes - had it been there a day ago, or had Iago simply not cared enough to notice it then? The sadness in Jasmine's voice - had he even bothered to ask what was wrong? Jazel's absolute, desperate hopelessness - aside from telling her a few paltry stories, had he done anything at all to help her, to give her a reason to go on living? He cursed himself in anger. All this time, he had been living as though _he_ had been the only one who had been hurt by Jafar, and they had given him their sympathy. If he had opened his eyes the teensiest bit and not been so damn inconsiderate, he would have seen that they had all suffered as well, and that they had all suffered far worse than he had. He vowed never to be so indifferent again.

"Anything else?" Genie asked, his gentle voice penetrating Iago's surly thoughts.

"Yeah. There's one thing I don't understand," Iago said. "You've told me how Jafar took over Agrabah and all that, but you didn't bother to mention how he came back in the first place."

Cassim's determined face flickered in the waning light of the campfire, the orange flames casting a fierce glow over his hell-bent expression. He shifted slightly, folded his arms across his chest, and while looking Iago straight in the eye, responded darkly, "If I ever find out who is responsible, I swear by what honor I have left that I will not rest until I see him dead at my feet."

---

It nearly dusk six days later when the packed yellow sand beneath their feet turned to ash and the azure sky above became cloudy and unforgiving. The high peaks and sloping dunes that the travelers had grown accustomed to gradually leveled out into a flat, steady plane that extended to the horizon. That would have made the journey easier for Iago but for the dread that had wormed its way into his heart and was steadily gnawing away at every fiber of courage still alive in him. He had realized long ago that some unknown force was causing him to be afraid as the closer he came to the Land of the Black Sand. Now that he had arrived at last, that tension had reached a boiling point, and he felt the familiar sensation of white-hot fear licking his insides. As the few remaining rays of sunlight were blotted out by an unnatural night and a heavy blanket of darkness was cast the group, Iago felt a chill run down his spine that was owed to more than the sharp drop in temperature that accompanied the change in scenery.

Nervously, he twisted his head to get a better look at what was around him. His attempts were met with frustration. He could hardly see his wing in front of his face, let alone anything that might pose a danger to him down the road. Just the same, he almost preferred it that way. If Mozenrath were to materialize in front of him dressed in a black cloak and holding a silver blade, he thought he would outright faint.

"Aladdin!" Cassim called out into the darkness, and Iago jumped a mile at the sound of his voice. His heart pounding, his lungs panting, he grabbed ahold of the collar of his friend's shirt and berated him, "Are you _trying_ to scare me to death? Don't _do_ that!"

Moments later, Aladdin's voice called back from somewhere to Iago's left, "Dad? Where are you?"

"I can't see a damn thing in this darkness!" Rasoul shouted. "How are we going to find our way when we can't even see each other?"

"Er, I might be able to fix that," said Genie. Then, there was an audible _click_, and the eyes of Cassim's horse began to glow. Twin beams of light streaked from the animal's pupils into the all-encompassing darkness and lit up the area. Suddenly able to see again, Iago blinked twice and looked around, noticing that Aladdin's and Rasoul's horses had begun to do the same as Cassim's.

The companions slowly tore their eyes away from their horses and stared at Genie, who smiled sheepishly and toed the ground. When it dawned on him that being nonchalant wasn't going to work, he threw his arms up in the air and said, "Look I _know_ you didn't agree with me on air-conditioned horses, Al, but I just _had_ to install these nifty headlights. They were dirt cheap, and look, they even come with high beams!"

Aladdin almost cracked a smile. Almost.

"Look!" Rasoul yelled, causing Iago to jump again before looking his way. His arm was raised, his mouth the picture of a perfect circle, his finger pointing at some unknown thing in the distance obscured by the ebony night. Iago followed the finger and tried to ascertain just what had caught Rasoul's eye. He almost gave up, but then he saw it: a terrifying, looming monster roosted upon a jagged plateau a good distance away. The Citadel. It was only visible for the fact that it was inherently blacker than everything else around it. Iago felt his heart sink to somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach.

"Well, we're here," Cassim whispered ominously.

"Yeah. We're here. _Great._ _Now_ what do we do?" Iago muttered.

The sand in front of Iago exploded into his face, and he was blinded, sent sputtering and coughing from the sheer volume of dust that showered him. The last thing he saw before he shielded his eyes was the sight of a scarlet hand protruding upward from the pallid ground. The horse was spooked, and it buckled and raised up on its haunches, tossing Iago and Cassim off as though they were mere rag dolls. Iago landed on his head, but managed to catch a cushion of air under his wings at the last second to lessen the blow. Half an instant later, he heard Cassim fall down beside him and cry out. Briefly, he wondered whether his friend was alright, but he was much more preoccupied with figuring out what was going on. Then, with a start, he realized the obvious culprit: Mozenrath.

His hacking cough subsided to the point where he could piece together snatches of the conversation going on above him -

"Do you see it? It's coming up from underneath -"

"Damn it, we should have expected -"

"Swords at ready! We don't know what -"

"Look! There's another!"

"Go get Dad - I think he fell off his horse too -"

"What in the _hell_ is going on?"

Then, Iago felt a horrible coldness enclose upon him. The next thing he knew, he was being lifted against his will into the air. He struggled and squirmed, but couldn't dislodge himself, couldn't escape from whatever had captured him. And then -

"Iago!" shouted Cassim.

He pried his eyes open and looked around frantically. The first thing that caught his eye was Cassim, who was picking himself up off the ground with Genie's help. He was clutching his shoulder and looked to be in a lot of pain, but that did nothing to replace the anger and concern that defined his features when he looked into Iago's eyes. Rasoul, who had drawn his scimitar, wore a much more condescending expression as he surveyed Iago; he almost seemed to be laughing to himself, which entrenched Iago's fear all the more. He didn't have time to see where Aladdin was, because at that moment, he heard a hideous hissing noise above him and tilted his head back to look up - and nearly fainted.

Iago had hoped - nay, he had prayed he had been taken captive by a mere Mamluck. Holding with tradition, his prayers went unanswered. Standing above him was the most petrifying menace of the undead he had ever laid eyes on, a fearful construction of bones and ligaments that made Iago spasm in shocked horror. The skeleton was the thickest blood red he had ever seen, though by what means and for what purpose it had attained such a color Iago neither knew nor wished to know. Its fleshless, meatless body moved unnaturally, though unmistakably with life; Iago watched its ribcage raise and lower as if it were breathing, though it lacked any visible lungs behind its chest to collect the air, a sight that sent shivers down his spine. Much worse were the eyes, bleak and empty, which looked disparagingly down at Iago and bored into the cavity of his soul, turning him into a prisoner of his own fear; Iago followed the skeleton's bony arm to the hand that curtailed his movement and realized he was a prisoner in many more ways than that.

His mind was foggy, but he considered his options. He was able to narrow them down to two: he could do nothing and wait for the skeleton to squeeze the life out of him, or he could act to save himself. With his life on the line, it was clear that the preferable choice was the latter one. However, the monster holding him hostage physically outmatched him, and there was nothing he could do to break free.

He could imitate Mozenrath's voice and command the skeleton to release him. It had worked when he had escaped from the palace. But as a prisoner, he had had the advantage of being able to listen to Jafar's unceasing threats day after day for three months. It had been easy to reproduce what he had heard then, but he hadn't heard Mozenrath's voice in years. The memory of what he had sounded like had begun to slip from Iago's mind. He wasn't sure he could pull it off.

But it was better than nothing. Resolute beyond the face of death, though not necessarily beyond the fear of it, he shoved his whimpers aside and spoke his best impression of the sorcerer, "Let me go, worthless undead! Don't you recognize your master when you see him? Release me this instant, or I swear by Khartoum you'll be dust by morning!"

Iago's voice was scratchy from all the sand he had breathed in, another complication he hadn't counted on. The skeleton raised him to eye level and scrutinized him, deciding whether or not he was who he said he was. Staring into those ancient eye sockets, long since having rotted out and turned black as midnight, brought Iago's fright to new limits; he even swore he could see a maggot crawling out of one of them, though it was likely only a product of his imagination. Whatever the monster's decision would be, he prayed he would reach it quickly.

For once, his prayers were answered, albeit not in the way he had hoped. The skeleton hissed a second time, overwhelming Iago's nostrils with the putrid stench of death that emanated from its mouth. Then, it did something the parrot had not anticipated. It grinned. Iago swallowed hard, realizing the monster had not bought his act and did not intend to let him go. It was going to kill him. He was going to die.

A glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye - Cassim lurched forward from where he had been standing, putting one foot in front of the other in a sprint that appeared to be excruciating for him, judging by the torment etched into his face. In a matter of seconds, he closed the distance between himself and the skeleton, unsheathed his sword, and with a roar of anger, brought it down upon the bony arm that restrained Iago, tearing it out of its socket. The skeleton hissed again and backed away, and Cassim fell into a kneeling rest where he had stopped, huffing and puffing and holding his own arm as though it were the one that had just been cut. The skeleton's detached arm fell into the ground nearby, and Iago was able to wriggle himself free from it.

Cassim looked at him with amiable distress. "Are you alright?" he asked in-between breaths.

"Am I alright? Am I _alright?_ Do I _look_ alright? That thing almost killed me! Are _you_ alright?" he added as an afterthought, unwilling to put concern for Cassim on display.

Genie rushed to the skeleton's side, dressed once again in his nurse outfit. "Tut, tut, a broken arm! Oh, this is positively _dreadful!_" he chastised, picking up the detached arm from the ground and dangling it in front of him. "Don't worry, honey, Nurse Genie will fix you right up!" With that, he tossed the arm over his shoulder, pushed the skeleton back into an armchair, and pulled a small hammer from his pocket. He tapped it lightly on his patient's knee, waiting for a reflex. When the skeleton's leg didn't budge, he shrugged, discarded the mallet, turned around, and reappeared with an enormous sledgehammer, which he swung mightily into the skeleton's torso. A shower of bones rained down upon the area, and Iago and Cassim had to dodge to avoid them.

When all was said and done, Cassim grinned and said, "Good job, Genie."

"No problem!" Genie answered, sweeping all the bones into a pile with a heavy broom.

"Genie?"

"Yeah?"

"Never, _ever_ administer medical care for me again," Cassim firmly stated.

Genie's grin widened. "No problem," he beamed.

Cassim picked himself up from the ground once again, rubbing his injured arm profusely. Iago flew to him and landed on his shoulder. He was about to inquire further about his friend's health when Rasoul's enraged voice resounded unpleasantly in his head:

"Thief! Genie! Bird! If you'd stop fooling around, you might notice we're under attack!"

Iago jerked his head around to catch a glimpse of what Rasoul was talking about and was taken aback by what he saw. Two dozen crimson skeletons identical to the one that had captured Iago were lined up in rows ahead of them, blocking the path to the Citadel. Each one eyed the travelers with the same gaunt expression, the same fiendish stare.

"We must defend ourselves!" roared Rasoul, holding his scimitar so close to his face that Iago could see his ill reflection in the metal.

"Must we? They're not attacking," observed Aladdin.

Cassim took a few steps forward to his son's side and rested an aged hand on his tanned shoulder. "They're waiting for something," he said.

"They're waiting for us," Aladdin mused. "It's an escort."

"An escort!" Rasoul snarled. His face was redder than a tomato as he glared at Cassim, blistering with rage. "It's obvious these - these - _things_ - are looking for a fight! Shooting out of the ground like sandworms, ambushing us, throwing us all of our horses and sending them galloping away in fear without us on their backs... that one over there even tried to kill the bird! We _will _destroy them!"

"In all fairness, Rasoul, it isn't out of place for skeletons to be underground. And as for Iago, he isn't dead yet, is he? We didn't come all the way across the desert in pursuit of mindless bloodshed," Aladdin scoffed. Iago noticed him glance remorsefully at Cassim as he said the words, though it only lasted half a second.

"But -"

"And may I remind you, Rasoul, that you are not the leader of this party. That title belongs to me, and I would appreciate it if you would kindly _shut up_ and let _me_ make the decisions, if it's not too much trouble," Aladdin sharply cut him off.

Rasoul's face flushed red again. This time, Iago was certain the change in color was driven not only by anger, but also from embarrassment. He smiled, and although he couldn't see Cassim's face, he knew his friend was smiling too.

"We'll go with them," reaffirmed Aladdin. "We'll see where they take us. But be on guard! These skeletons are Mozenrath's handiwork, and I don't trust Mozenrath as far as I can throw him. I'm keeping my eye on them. Dad, Rasoul, Abu, you guys be ready to do the same. And Genie, be prepared to act fast if they do decide to attack. Up against superior numbers this deep enemy territory, we'll definitely need your magic on our side. Let's go."

They went. The companions formed a tight-knit pack without their horses, with Aladdin, Cassim, and Rasoul walking side-by-side in front and Genie vigilantly guarding the back. Mozenrath's minions mimicked them, some of them leading the travelers ahead, some of them following them to the rear. The members of the Order were sandwiched between two clusters of skeletons who could launch an attack anytime they chose. It was a daunting formation; if the uneasy peace between the living and the undead evaporated, the companions would be facing a war on two fronts, a war they would probably lose. Iago realized this and broke into a cold sweat. Aladdin seemed to know it too. But unlike Iago, Aladdin was unphased by it, focused more on the road beneath his feet than the impending doom that loomed over them all. He was putting his faith in luck. And as luck would have it, the skeletons did not attack them yet.

And so, the odd consortium marched onward, drawing ever-closer to the Citadel. Iago looked from one decomposed face to another, nervously pondering their situation and consumed with wonder over just what other rocks fate could possibly pelt them with. It must have been a strange sight to see, he decided - the dead leading the living farther and farther into the darkness. It was almost metaphorical in a way, and Iago was sure he would have laughed at the insanity of it all if he weren't so racked with fear. As the hard-packed dirt turned to stone beneath him, he was dominated by the desire to turn back. As the group entered the shadowy ghost town and passed beneath the magic-detecting towers that turned sapphire whenever they strayed too near, Iago wanted nothing more than to be the coward he knew he was and fly away, leaving that land of despair in the dust behind him. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. To do so would let Jasmine down and prove himself to be the same despicable traitor he thought he was. Whether he was a traitor or not, he couldn't bring himself to let Jasmine down. He couldn't.

Then came the moment of truth. The companions crossed the land bridge and stopped at the tall, black gate of the Citadel. Here, the vast majority of the skeletons split off into a second group, which stood together to the side of the path and, to Iago's rapt revulsion, sank down into the ground as if they were standing on quicksand. Only five remained: two ahead and three behind. The members of the Order could easily take them, which annulled some of the parrot's anxiety. But they were on the enemy's doorstep now, and if the skeletons could come and go as quickly and as easily as Iago had just seen them, they could be in serious trouble if it ever came to a fight. And the dilemma extended further than that: if they were assaulted, they would have not only legions of undead to combat, but Mozenrath himself to deal with on top of them.

The lead skeleton hissed to the lone Mamluck standing guard in front of the Citadel, an action that still caused Iago's feathers to stand on end. He smiled faintly despite himself; the Mamluck was Destane, and to see the former sorcerer still occupying the same boring post after all these years had some comedic value, though not nearly enough to relieve the burden on Iago's shoulders. The zombie hobbled outward ten paces and signaled to someone in the sentry tower high above. Without ado, the grand raven doors groaned and swung open, revealing the equally grand azure hallway beyond. After having become so accustomed to the night outside, the fleeting torchlight within molested their eyes. But they didn't stop. With the somberness of a funeral procession, they trudged onward. That's all they really were, Iago realized with a start: mere bodies being brought into the morgue.

They reached a second gateway at the end of the hall. The skeletons in leading the group broke away and circled around to the back, where they stood with their comrades, blocking the route to the exit. They were cornered in the lion's den, and Iago was sure it was that specific moment that the skeletons had chosen to strike. But instead, the elaborate door disappeared before them, and the companions were pushed through into the throne room.

Iago looked up to the brooding throne ahead on the dais, whereupon sat the figure that had haunted his nightmares days. Mozenrath hadn't changed much in eight years; he still bore the same blue and gold ensemble, the same handsome young face, the same murderous leather Gauntlet. He propped up his head with one hand; the other was concealed in a pocket. His legs were crossed. His eyes were wide open. With a face roughly the same color and hardness of polished marble, he looked at each of the six members of the Order standing before him in turn: he raised an eyebrow at Aladdin; he ignored Abu; he shook his head at Genie; he snorted at Rasoul; he looked passively at Cassim. But when he came to Iago, he stopped.

Mozenrath continued to study him for well over a minute, until he could feel the eyes of the rest of the group on him as well. Iago was worried and bewildered at the same time. Perhaps there was more substance to his apprehensions than he had wanted to believe? Perhaps Mozenrath knew something he didn't? He was not allowed the chance to find out, because a familiar grotesque slug flew into Mozenrath's line of sight before he was able to address the bird.

"Kneel!" Xerxes ordered slovenly. Aladdin looked at him with a blank expression, and the rest of the group did the same.

In a swift movement, Mozenrath stood, swatted Xerxes out of the way, and took his place on the throne again. "Be calm, Xerxes. Our guests have traveled a long way, although I'm not quite sure _why,_" he said.

The voice whose tenor Iago had all but forgotten about came rushing back to him all too clearly.

"I think you know why I'm here, Mozenrath," Aladdin stated. "We need your help."

The sorcerer's dull lips widened into cold smirk. He stared haughtily down at Aladdin. "How long I've waited to hear you say those words! But why cut to the chase? Pleasure comes before business, after all. Please tell me, Aladdin, how's the family? Is running a kingdom all that you hoped it would be?"

"Shut up, Mozenrath," Aladdin blasted back.

"I hope my bonewalkers didn't give you too much trouble," Mozenrath yawned. "They're fragile, but they can pack quite a punch. Especially the more dominant variety that I've bolstered my ranks with. At any rate, they're a lot more efficient than Mamlucks. A lot smarter, too. You'd never guess the success I've -"

"How many do you have?" interjected Aladdin. Iago gave him an edgy glance before turning his eyes nervously back to Mozenrath again. After having traveled hundreds of miles to the Land of the Black Sand, did Aladdin really intend to indulge Mozenrath's ego? There must have been some ulterior motive that Iago was not catching onto.

There was, and Mozenrath seemed to be aware of it, because he smirked and almost seemed to leer over Aladdin. His charcoal eyes glowed with atramentous radiance as he leaned forward in his chair and addressed his rival, "Well, well. I thought I'd never live to see the day. The stout-hearted Aladdin comes crawling to his enemy's doorstep on bended knee, does he? I'd ask you to kiss my ring, but I've grown beyond trivial vanity."

Aladdin stared him down. "You overestimate yourself."

Mozenrath smiled. "What do you want, Aladdin?"

"An equal partnership."

"Ha! The Land of the Black Sand form an alliance with a ragtag collection of peasants and mercenaries? Now who's overestimating himself?"

Aladdin chose his words carefully. "Still you," he retaliated, "if you believe you are safe here. The kingdoms are falling one-by-one, Mozenrath. They've already turned against me. If we don't do something to reclaim them now, they will fall under _his_ control, and I guarantee they will turn against you. You may have an impressive army of bonewalkers, Mozenrath, but there's no way they can stand up to an empire that stretches across the Seven Deserts. You'll be outnumbered and outmatched. And as you pointed out, your skeletons are fragile."

At last, Iago thought he understood what was going on. His head swam with the newfound knowledge. A partnership between Aladdin and Mozenrath? It didn't seem possible. But then again, nothing seemed possible anymore.

Mozenrath didn't look too certain of his footing anymore. The sorcerer stared hard at Aladdin, visibly annoyed that he had been challenged, but also realizing the obvious logic in what his aged nemesis had said. His head seemed to tip from side to side as he was weighed his options, and Iago watched it with baited breath, wondering on which side the scale would finally settle. Eventually, Mozenrath did make up his mind: he shook his head, made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and avowed in a very matter-of-fact way, "No, Aladdin. You were always meant to be subservient to me, and you will _be_ subservient to me. If you have a problem with my terms, then by all means, leave. Go back and sulk in your dark, dank cave and ponder your own pathetic existence until the stars themselves grow old. You are nothing to me anymore."

"You idiot!" Rasoul raged, taking a threatening step forward toward the young sorcerer. "Your bitterness will be the death of us all! I should run you through with my sword and _then_ we'll see how you feel about the matter!"

He looked at Rasoul with jaded amusement. "I'm an idiot, am I? Do yourself a favor, fool. Never insult anyone's intelligence ever again; it only accentuates how profoundly _stupid_ you are. Now leave! Your ineptitude bores me, and I don't want to have to look at your rancid face anymore!"

Rasoul quickly backed away, but Aladdin took up the reins again in his silence. "There isn't anything I could say to convince you to agree to an alliance?" he asked.

"Nothing," Mozenrath spat.

"Then listen to this: Jafar has organized three armies, one from each of the lands he's conquered. Each one is at least ten thousand strong and equipped with the best weapons and armor that Getzistani gold can buy. He's massing his armies on the northern border of D'jel. From there, his options are limitless - he can invade practically any of the remaining kingdoms of the Seven Deserts. But I've heard word from a reliable source that Jafar means to strike at the capital, and that can mean only one thing: he wants Cryngaine as his prize, and he's going for the Sentinel."

Aladdin paused, but Mozenrath's face had rapidly taken on the same bitter complexion of sour grapes, and he refused to comment. Aladdin continued.

"You know as well as I that Cryngaine is the closest thing to a capital that the Seven Deserts have. It's where the pact between the seven kingdoms was first hammered out, and it's where the sultans and sultanas of each of the member states of the alliance meet to talk diplomacy. If Jafar occupies Cryngaine, he'll have each and every last one of them at his mercy. The pact will be dead, and the kingdoms that survive the fall of the capital won't be able to maintain a coordinated defense like they have up until now. If Cryngaine falls, then the Seven Deserts are doomed. Just like he took Agrabah, just like he took D'jel, just like he took Getzistan, so will he dominate everyone else who stands in his way. And once he has the Seven Deserts under his thumb, he'll be able to focus his ambitions elsewhere. He'll come after you, Mozenrath. And there won't be a damn thing you'll be able to do to stop him."

"How do you know all this? I haven't heard a word about any attack on Cryngaine," Mozenrath said heatedly, tapping a finger on the arm of his throne.

A smug smile flashed across Aladdin's lips. "I guess you overestimated yourself."

Mozenrath was on his feet in an instant, his face the perfect picture of madness. "How _dare_ you come into _my_ Citadel and insult _me!_ This is _blackmail!_" he sneered, each word emerging from his dry and dusty throat an oily epithet of rage. He looked lividly from one face to the next and seemed genuinely on the verge of having them all executed, but behind his frenzied eyes, Iago could tell he was thinking, strategizing, planning his next move. If any piece of the cool intellect Mozenrath was known for had survived this short outburst - and it certainly had - then the sorcerer had no choice but the let them live for the sake of his own survival, and Iago tried to reassure himself of that fact as he strove to soothe his pounding heart and keep his breathing in check.

Aladdin didn't concentrate on the outburst at all. He continued, "The only way into Cryngaine is through the Sentinel. There is no other way. The Sentinel is, of course, the most perfect fortress ever conceived and constructed by man. But the Seven Deserts don't have enough troops to defend it. Their forces have been squandered fighting for lost causes at D'jel and Getzistan and split in half twice to guard against the possibility of a western offensive. In short, they're out of manpower, they're out of money, and they're out of time. Mozenrath, if you don't side with us, the Sentinel stands no chance. Jafar's armies are more than numerous enough to overwhelm Cryngaine's defenses in their present state, not to mention the difficulty of having to deal with an all-powerful genie."

"He isn't all-powerful," Mozenrath mumbled.

"Come again?" frowned Aladdin.

Mozenrath took a step back and sunk down into his throne, where he rested his chin wearily in his hand. "Forget it," he said abruptly.

Aladdin squinted, obviously puzzled by what Mozenrath had said and wanting to press for more. But shrugged off the comment as nothing and continued with the negotiations at hand, the imperativeness of swaying Mozenrath to his side more important than anything else. "You understand the logic in what I'm telling you," he said, taking a bold step forward toward the sorcerer on the throne. "There is no way we'll be able to stand alone against Jafar, and likewise, there is no way you'll be able to oppose him all by yourself."

"Are you sure about that, Aladdin?" whispered Mozenrath dangerously. "What makes you think I won't stand by and watch as these three armies you speak of utterly tear you apart? What makes you think I won't let them kill you at the first opportunity?"

"Because allowing Jafar to finish me off would mean all the less glory for you, Mozenrath. You've already reserved the job of killing me for yourself," Aladdin answered in good humor.

Mozenrath leaned forward in his chair until he was nearly face-to-face with Aladdin. "And what makes you think I give a damn about glory anymore? How do you know I won't let your enemies cut you down, Aladdin? Hell, how do you know I'll send my undead soldiers intervene in your paltry little war at all? You won't win. You _can't_ win against armies of that caliber. It is predestined."

"Fate is not like the cut of a blade, Mozenrath, but rather like the myriad of paths formed when a hammer cracks ice. There's a very good possibility that -"

"Wrong!" Mozenrath shouted. "Fate is very much like the cut of the blade. Moreso than you can ever possibly know."

Aladdin's jaw dropped. "Mozenrath, what are you -"

"It was me," the sorcerer boldly proclaimed. "_I_ was the one who brought Jafar back from the dead."

The room was very still.

Iago had to repeat what Mozenrath had said three times in his head for it to make any sense to him, and when it finally did click, he was too taken aback to notice the flurry of activity going on around him. In one swift motion, Aladdin drew his sword from its scabbard without delay and took a running leap onto the dais, where he held the weapon very close to Mozenrath's throat. Genie bounded after him and tried to hold him down, but Aladdin tossed him off like a weakling child and glowered dangerously down at Mozenrath, his tense eyes burning, his lower lip trembling.

"_Snake!_" he bellowed, the insult reverberating again and again in the confines of the throne room, but his voice was wobbly and lacked the command that had been distinctive of it a minute ago. He didn't bother to hide his anger; he embraced it full on, steaming with an exuberance Iago hadn't seen in him since before the dark times of Jafar's reign. It was the first tangible sign of emotion he had seen in Aladdin in eight years. But as reminiscent as the passionate man before him was, Iago couldn't imagine the old Aladdin stooping so low as to slit another man's throat - even if that other man was Mozenrath. It also brought back painful recollections of his vision in the midst of the Marauders' attack, of being on the receiving end of the blade and having his own throat cut open. In any case, it wasn't something to be honored and it wasn't something to be proud of.

He was about to speak when Cassim piped up beside him, "Aladdin put your sword down."

If Aladdin's voice was wavering, then Cassim was downright unsure of himself. From where he was mounted on his shoulder, Iago was able to catch a glimpse of his face, and he could see that his friend was locked in deep battle with himself or some demon of his heart. The muscles in his face were twitching through his lopsided frown and he chewed on his lower lip constantly. Furthermore, he couldn't meet his son's eyes, picking a spot on the dais to focus his attention on instead. Iago couldn't ever remember seeing him so torn.

"Shut up, Dad," Aladdin retaliated. But his voice was less strong, if that was possible.

Iago picked that second to burst in, "Stop it, Al. This... this just isn't right."

"You should listen to your pet, Aladdin," Mozenrath sneered. "I am the most powerful being on Earth! I can't be struck down by any material weapon! And even if you were able to kill me, you would still be caught in the middle of my throne room, in the middle of my kingdom. You and all your friends would never escape this place. My bonewalkers would destroy you. And trust me, I have many, many bonewalkers."

Mozenrath was exceptionally believable in delivering the lines. But for all his words, Iago noticed that with Aladdin's sword pressed to his neck, he was sitting very, very still.

Gradually, Aladdin pulled away, leaving a thin line of blood where metal had touched Mozenrath's flesh. His breathing was erratic, but was able to control himself again. Iago felt subconsciously guilty for having challenged him, but he was too engrossed by what the sorcerer had just admitted to care.

"You bleed like anyone else," Aladdin remarked with disgust, letting the sword slip from his hands, which were white-knuckled and tight-fisted, squeezing an imaginary neck. "Explain yourself!"

Mozenrath wiped the blood off his neck with his fingers and held it up to his eyes for inspection. Its violent redness stood in stark contrast with Mozenrath's gaunt face, which had lost what little color it had possessed when the contents of his jugular were almost put on display on the dark tile floor.

"It would be a humorous story if all that came of it had happened to you and you alone," Mozenrath said spitefully. "Now that my secret is out, I suppose there's no harm in telling it... but where to begin?"

"Tablets!" Xerxes urged, swimming around his master's head like a planet in orbit. Iago was confused at first at the sound of his voice. He had been so unsympathetically quiet when Aladdin was about to run Mozenrath through that Iago had forgotten the slug was even there.

Mozenrath snapped his fingers. "Of course, the tablets. As good a place as any,"

He drew a petite circle in the air with his finger, and upon the completion of the shape, two stone tablets materialized where his hand had been. They hovered in midair, shedding centuries of dust and dirt on the marble floor, tempting Iago to read them. He had to lean forward on Cassim's shoulder to be able to see the tiny text, but he managed. The tablets' meaning, however, left him more clueless than ever before. Breathlessly, he read:

---

_When bandit's cured and heiress' mourned,  
From 'neath earth, there comes a foe,  
From hellish nether, far below.  
'Twixt devil's jaw, he comes reborn,  
Given life by traitor's blood,  
Bestowing strength in magic flood,  
As kingdoms crumble 'neath his scorn._

_In darkest hour, in darkened halls,  
Where lives are lost and fates are wrought,  
Where battle once again is fought,  
The Betrayer transpires through it all,  
And gives to the Betrayed in stress,  
That__ which neither doth possess,  
To spare the world from evil's thrall._

---

Genie spoke up tersely, "What does any of it mean?"

"These," Mozenrath gestured to the stone slabs, "Are two tablets of an ancient prophecy, predicted by seers, chronicled by sages, and entombed by earth for the past millennia. They foretell the coming of a great evil. They once belonged to Destane, but I claimed them as my prize when I inherited his estate, and I used them to resurrect Jafar."

"_Why?_ And _how?_" Aladdin growled.

"Do we _really_ have to delve into specifics?"

"_Yes!_"

Mozenrath's face was acid. "I did it for power. Isn't that obvious? Aladdin, I tried to steal your genie's magic time and time again before I stumbled across these tablets. Once I put ample time into translating them and understanding their meaning, I came to believe the fates had coalesced to recognize me as the rightful ruler of the Seven Deserts. I realized that if I could fulfill the prophecy, I would be able to tap the energy of Jafar, an all-powerful genie. With such a beast at my beck and call, I could've been unstoppable. I could've been able to conquer the world like he's doing now! If only things had gone as planned, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Aladdin didn't press him for answers anymore. His head was bowed and his back was turned, but Iago could guess what emotions were tilling his features.

"You idiot!" Cassim howled. "_You're_ the one to blame for this tragedy! Do you have any idea the kind of evil you've unleashed upon the world! Jafar has ruined three kingdoms and taken hundreds of innocent lives! He stole my granddaughter away from me -"

"I know exactly what evil I've unleashed upon the world! I thought I could control him. I thought he was supposed to bestow _me_ with strength in a magic flood! Instead, he gave his power to Aladdin's pitiful daughter, and I was only able to catch a snatch of it for myself before he escaped from here! Do you think I haven't suffered at all because of my mistake? I gave my right hand to be able to wear the Gauntlet, to be able to call its power my own. And in my attempts to subdue him and capture his magic for myself, I lost my left one!"

Mozenrath tore his left hand out of the pocket where it had been concealed and held it up for all to see. All that could be said about the limb was that it wasn't there; the entire hand was missing, the arm ending in a mere stub at the wrist. Iago gasped at the sight of it, and Aladdin and Genie both took a step backward in surprise.

"Does this please you, Aladdin?" Mozenrath raged. "The day I resurrected him, he retaliated and did _this_ to me! My only hand was stolen away by a cursed blade! Does that make you happy, Aladdin? _Does it?_ The same knife I used to bring him back was turned against me! And I've lived with that mistake for _eight years,_ Aladdin!"

Iago's heart skipped a beat. "The silver dagger," he ventured, pleading to shadows that Mozenrath wouldn't know what he was referencing, that he wouldn't know what he was talking about. If Mozenrath was clueless about the dagger, then Iago's fears had no basis in fact, and he would be able to rest easily... wouldn't he?

He suddenly felt several pairs of eyes on him.

Mozenrath scowled. "That's right. The silver dagger."

The image of Mozenrath slitting his throat had been at the heart of his revulsion toward going to the Land of the Black Sand. He had made due by discounting it as a dream, even though he knew in his heart of hearts that there was more to it than that. Now, Mozenrath had all but admitted to knowing what Iago had seen in the vision, which could only mean that the vision was somehow true. It was all on the table now. And soon, Iago feared, would also be his lunch. The terrible sense of fear he had suffered when he had first seen the vision a few days ago came floating back to him now. The same sickness he had felt in the pit of his stomach when Mozenrath's gaze had sojourned on him when he'd first entered the throne room dwindled nauseatingly in his mind. But more than anything, he was filled with loathing, despair, and an awful guilt he could not account for, but which burrowed its way inside him nonetheless.

Cassim turned his head to the side and penetrated the bird's soul. "Iago, what do you know that you aren't telling me!" he demanded, his jaw quivering.

Genie looked from Mozenrath to Iago to Mozenrath again, his arms locked, his blue face burning. "How about letting us in on the little secret, Mozy?"

"Blood of the Betrayer," spoke Mozenrath. He sounded parched and worn out, two qualities Iago didn't especially associate with the sorcerer. Not that he was in any fit state to care. He was only half-listening to the discussion now; the other half was still lost over the confirmation of his greatest fear. Like Aladdin, he had become remote and withdrawn. Mozenrath's affirmation that the vision had its basis in reality was charged with the potency of a lightning bolt, and like a dry tree in the midst of a raging thunderstorm, it struck him, and he snapped in two and collapsed.

"It's an ancient riddle. An ancient riddle that I was able to solve, however poor the rewards have been." Some small fragment of his mind that had managed to remain unravaged listened to Mozenrath's speech. "How can I phrase this so your limited minds can comprehend it? The tablets go beyond making a blind prediction of evil. They present the very formula for bringing that evil to life. 'Given life by traitor's blood' - that one line is responsible for this entire catastrophe."

The members of the Order looked back at him with searching eyes.

"Oh, how much more obvious could it be!" Mozenrath lamented. "The magic for bringing your old enemy back resides in the blood of the one who betrayed him, leading to his death. With the power of the Gauntlet, I divined that the Betrayed the prophecy refers to was none other than Agrabah's former vizier. A surprise, to say the least, but a welcome one, because thanks to my less-than-pleasant past encounters with you wretches, I had the benefit of knowing where to start looking for the one who stabbed him in the back. What followed was an investigation that put even my advanced mind to the test. I almost gave up at one point, but I have the will of a titan, and I carried on. In the end, my investigations paid off. I discovered the Betrayer was none other than that stupid parrot."

Mozenrath lifted a finger to point at Iago, who quickly dived behind Cassim's tunic, panicked that he was about to be shocked or zapped. Mozenrath grinned maliciously. "Kicking a genie's lamp into a pit of boiling lava - quite commendable. I don't blame him for hating you," he teased.

"Locating the bird was more difficult. I was almost deterred when I learned he had left Agrabah, but I knew I would find him eventually. And I did. I stole from the camp where he slept one night and brought him here to the Citadel. Once I had him in my grasp, I used a cursed silver dagger to drain the blood I needed to fulfill the prophecy. And when I had enough, I patched him up, returned him to the camp, and dampened his memory of the event so no one would be able to follow my tracks. I'm actually astounded you were able to break through the memory blocks I put up, parrot. You must be very strong-willed. That, or you have a history with dark magic."

"Iago," Cassim said disbelievingly. "You had a part in this? And you knew it? And you didn't _tell_ me?"

"I - I -"

But Cassim refused to give him the chance to lie and quickly looked away from him, pained and disappointed. Iago surmised there were more levels to how much his friend had been hurt than he knew.

"The knife I used to take away the parrot's blood was the same knife he used to take away my hand," Mozenrath dragged on. "Irony is cruel, isn't it?"

"Forget about Iago. How does this prophecy of yours even _end?_" stormed Cassim.

"Why don't you try reading it?" Mozenrath snapped, his words as sharp as cutlery.

"'The Betrayer gives to the Betrayed in stress that which neither doth possess'... What's that even supposed to _mean?_"

Mozenrath frowned. "In all truth, I'm not entirely sure. I didn't pay much attention to the second verse. I only gave thought to the first one."

"You idiot! You took the first part at face value and thought the second one was negotiable!"

The sorcerer's piercing stare was unbreakable. In a low voice, he said, "It is said that there's no keeping the prophecy from being fulfilled. Once the ball is set and pulled, there's not way to make it stop swinging until it loses its momentum on its own."

"So you're giving up already, Mozenrath?" Genie replied hotly. "Doesn't seem like your style. Just admit it: Jafar has you boxed into a corner, and now you're too weak to get back at him. You're trapped. Like a rat. In a cage."

Mozenrath reviled, his voice a sibilation of the coming darkness whose way no one could stand in, "The blood of a traitorous bird runs in his veins. The blood of the Master of the Black Sand and the rightful ruler of the Seven Deserts runs through mine. I'll cut the thread that holds the ball in midair before it ever swings my way. I don't believe in destiny." The corners of his lips turned ghastily upward. "I already know what the future holds in store for me. The future had just better know what I hold for it."

He stood, walked across the dais, and opening his Gauntleted hand to Aladdin, addressed him properly. "I never thought it would come to this, that I would ever be shaking hands with _you._ But I can sacrifice my dignity once in my life. For what it's worth, Aladdin, we have an alliance... temporarily."

Aladdin looked up, the dabs of wetness beneath his eyes shimmering as he moved. He stared at Mozenrath sullenly, his potent visage deflated before their very eyes. Genie had been wrong. Aladdin really had been broken. But no one could complain about his lack of spirit as he pulled back his arm, well conditioned by eight year's hatred, and walloped Mozenrath painfully across the cheek.

---

Wearily, they trudged back through the lofty, carved doorways and immense, running corridors, so dark that they could easily be mistaken for those of a sepulcher. The pale orange torches disfigured them as they walked, burning hideous deformities into their crestfallen faces. In the pit of his heart, Iago knew he must have seemed most hideous of all. He had been right. What he had seen in his visions had really happened to him. The fact that it happened eight years ago didn't change a thing; he was still responsible for this second holocaust, this second Return of Jafar. He had been right. As his form was twisted and misshapen by sinister forces, all he wanted was to turn away from the light.

At length, they emerged from the tomb, though to Iago the air outside smelled just as stale as the air within the Citadel's bowels. He was just as much a prisoner here, he decided, as he was back there. There wasn't anything else he deserved more than to pay for what he'd done.

He tilted his head back and sought comfort among the silent guardians of the night, yet they seemed to glare back at him, billions upon billions of vengeful eyes spiting him from an eternity away, judging him, isolating him, condemning him. He had never felt more alone in the universe.

"Cassim?" he begged of his friend, praying he would be there to help him through this night. But his friend had left him. His friend was not there.

Aladdin turned to him, and Iago would never forget the look of pure disgust that adorned his star-crossed face.


	5. In the Midst of Chaos

**The Just Rewards** by Aldea Donder

Disclaimer: I do not own or take credit for any of the characters or places expressed hereafter in this writing with the exception of Jazel and Leon. The city of D'jel belongs to Dragonessa and is used with her permission. Everything else is the property of the Walt Disney Company.

Summary: This story takes place approximately eight years after Aladdin and the King of Thieves. Jafar has returned and won control of Agrabah. Iago has been taken prisoner, and he survives only at the whim of his greatest enemy. This story borrows some of its ideas from Catie Graham's _The Truth About Iago_. Read it as soon as you can; it's fantastic.

---

**Chapter Five:** In the Midst of Chaos

The air was cold beneath Iago's wings as he cut through the night, and a chill ran down his spine as the draft brushed his feathers. Such was the nature of the region, he supposed - hot in the day, cold in the evening. But it was of no consequence. He wasn't hostile to the desert. He welcomed it. He embraced it. Its silence was golden and pure, unmatched by anything that could be heard in the bustling streets of the city.

This was a region devoid of life, save for the few nooks and crannies of civilization knitted sparsely over the sifting canvas of the dunes. Here he was the solitary inhabitant of his own universe. And in its own way, that very knowledge was therapeutic, healthy for the mind and redeeming for the soul. It was odd for someone as boisterous as Iago to find such peace in isolation, and it was uncommon for someone so cynical to be at all spiritual. But such was the nature of his thoughts as he slid further into the darkness with naught but the light of the lonely moon to guide him.

Where were the others? He didn't know, nor did he want to know. He only wanted to put the day's events behind him, to forget about the war for a spell and live life without the stress of Jafar's inevitable conquest hanging over his head. It seemed wrong to ignore such a colossal threat, but what did it matter? Nothing he did now could ever be worse than the trouble he'd already caused the others...

_Idiot._ He'd left the encampment to get away from them and already he had let them enter his thoughts again.

He tucked back his wings and fell sharply into a dive. The air around him was moving faster than ever now, and his teeth began to chatter as he was pummeled by the icy currents. Still, he surged onward, picking up speed in a frivolous downward spiral until the black sand below blended with the night, leaving Iago blind to where the ground was. There was a real possibility that he could collide with it at breakneck speeds and kill himself if he didn't pull out of this freefall. Yet he refused to answer his mind's plea for caution, plunging further and further into the void until he was sure he was about to crash, until he was sure he was about to die, at which point he unfurled his wings and made himself level with the earth. His talons raked the sand, and he picked up some of it before climbing high into the sky again.

_Reckless,_ he chided himself. Then he grinned.

Allah, what was _wrong_ with him?

He shrugged, tucked back his wings, and fell into sharply a dive again.

It wasn't his fault. He'd realized that much by now. There was nothing he could have done to prevent Jafar's resurrection. He hadn't the faintest recollection of the blood being drained from his neck until he'd laid eyes on the silver dagger weeks and weeks ago. Perhaps if he'd kept a lower profile when he was traveling across the Seven Deserts with Cassim, Mozenrath might never have been able to track him down... but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

But that didn't stop him from feeling guilty about it. The physical torments Iago had suffered were trivial compared to the emotional horrors Aladdin, Jasmine, and all the others endured. Aladdin... From the time he had crossed paths with the raven-haired man back at the Cave of the Forty Thieves, Aladdin had been distant and aloof, at times short-tempered with Iago, but overall preferring to pretend he didn't exist. He'd fallen back into that pattern quickly enough. Save for the one outraged glare he gave the parrot back at the Citadel, Aladdin hadn't looked at Iago once.

What Iago saw in Aladdin's face might have puzzled anyone else, but Iago instantly identified it: a storm of anger and the most wretched, melancholy grief the heart could withstand. Anger... Grief... Iago was no stranger to either of those emotions. For too much of his life, he had let them consume him, corrupt him. It had taken some very extraordinary circumstances for him to realize who his true friends were, and in doing so lift the chains of pain from his wings.

He soared higher and higher until his wingtips raked the belly of a big, black cloud. The inky mass threatened to suck him up into its smothering depths, but he turned away from it and aimed himself back toward the earth, back toward the encampment, back toward the warmth of the campfire and the friends who slept around it. He opened his talons and let go of the hard-packed dirt he had scooped up from the desert floor; he watched the individual sands drift quietly into the darkness. Free from all worldly constraints. Free from anger's iron grip. Free as a bird.

---

The fortress emerged gracefully from the earth like an angel stretching to stroke the face of Heaven, and Heaven smiled upon it, lavishing it with the sun's golden blessings. Its massive bronze dome, several times the size of its lesser cousin which adorned the Palace in Agrabah, ignited brilliantly in the light of the day and filled Iago with warmth - not the feverish heat of the desert he had coped with as of late, but rather like the security of a blanket one pulls around his body to shield himself from the chill of night, or the cheerful crackle of a fire in the hearth, far removed from danger, safe at home. Bathed in its consecrated glow, Iago felt the locusts of cold and numbness flee down his spine and out of his body on spindly legs, banished back to the Land of the Black Sand where they had made him their host.

From the dome, the radiance spread downward, illuminating strong marble walls which ran as far and as fluidly as any river, sprawling and magnificent. Two arms reached out from the body of this behemoth, wrapping the area in front of the fortress in a horseshoe-shaped enclosure, ending in an egress some fifty meters wide. Lining these arms were slit-shaped windows just wide enough for an archer to nook and fire an arrow from, and below them level upon level of walled, fortified ramparts descended like an impossibly large staircase. Erected upon these platforms were more catapults than Iago had even dreamed existed, all of them armed and aimed into the field the arms strained to encircle, the arena where any battle would certainly be fought.

A warm breeze wafted around the nape of the dome and scattered the sand at their feet, puzzling Iago with the faint scent of static electricity. Sure enough, beyond the marble fortifications he spied vast, magically-charged walls, which began on either side of the fortress and circled back into the distance, completely encasing the good city of Cryngaine within their impenetrable blue glow. The rich spires and palaces of the capital glittered like a crown high above the arcane stockades. One prodigious tower dominated the skyline on the horizon, capping off the sheer majesty of the scene.

All in all, it was a marvel to behold. The eighth wonder of the world, Iago wagered. It _had_ to be. The grandeur of this stronghold, this fortress, this… Sentinel… was beyond anything he had encountered in all his journeys across the Seven Deserts with Cassim. Jafar had traveled here occasionally to serve as Agrabah's ambassador during his tenure under the Sultan, but he had never described its angelic glory to Iago. Now, he could see for himself how incredible it was: as big as a mountain and just as permanent.

"My friends," Aladdin announced, "we have arrived."

"Took long enough. I thought we'd never get here," said Rasoul as he regarded the long-awaited sight of the Sentinel with abject salvation.

Cassim snorted. "What's the matter, Rasoul? All those years lying down on the job finally taking their toll on you? Claustrophobic cave put a cramp on your exercise regiment? Finding yourself too tired to keep going? Too fat to carry on?"

Rasoul's eye twitched. "You're one to talk, Cassim," he said menacingly. "You and your pet parrot have done nothing but run your mouths off about the smallest inconveniences since the day we left. 'The days are too hot! The nights are too cold! My shoulder hurts because I let a big, bad Marauder take a swing at me! How long 'till we reach the Land of the Black Sand? We could've been there by now if we'd used Carpet!'"

"Ah, yet when I open my mouth, I usually have something intelligent to say," Cassim smirked.

"Why, you little - I'll cut your tongue out for that, thief!"

"You see? There you go again! Now where was the wit in that retort?" said Cassim.

Genie disappeared in a puff of smoke and rematerialized as a whirring fan. "Fe-ee-el-li-in-ng a bi-it ho-ot he-ea-ad-de-ed, Rasoul?" he joked, his voice lacerated by the spinning blades.

Rasoul scowled and smacked Genie aside. "I'm tired of this drivel! And I'm tired of listening to this criminal complain!"

"Whining about whining? Jeeze, even I don't complain that much," said Iago.

Rasoul seethed. "Shut up, parrot!" he retaliated.

Iago rolled his eyes. "Telling a parrot to shut up? Brilliant! While you're on that track, why don't you tell the monkey to stop smelling like a hairy ape? Or convince the genie to quit acting like an idiot? Gee, Rasoul, you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?"

"Or the brightest crayon in the box?" laughed Genie, picking himself up off the ground and transforming into a yellow and green carton with the word _Crayola_ stamped on it.

Rasoul was not at all amused. Flushed, he swatted Genie out of the air once again, sending him tumbling and spilling the contents of the box all across the ground. Genie merely smiled and possessed one of the many scattered crayons, a burning fire engine red, then floated up to confront Rasoul once again.

"Is it just me, or is our friend Rasoul looking a bit red in the face?" he winked before turning on Rasoul, smearing his face and mustache with the burgundy crayon.

Iago and Cassim howled with hysterical laughter. Rasoul was making quite a ruckus as well, sputtering and bellowing in fury. In a swift move, he snatched Genie out of the air and snapped him down the middle, sending the two parts of the crayon falling to the ground. Unfortunately for him, Genie responded sharpening both halves in a small cone-shaped hole on the back of the cardboard box, and then there were two crayons attacking Rasoul.

Aladdin shook his head at the spectacle. "Genie," he said, "you might want to ease up a bit and give Rasoul a chance to breathe. It looks like he's choking from lack of air... Well, either that or he's hyperventilating. Either way, I need your help."

In a flash, Genie reappeared at Aladdin's side wearing a suit and top hat. "Yes, suh? What'll it be, guvner, suh?" he asked with a grin.

"Since we've finally made it to Cryngaine, I'm going to have to address Calliphin, Allaria and the like to let them know the score. But I'm going to need to look the part..." his voice trailed off.

In a jiffy, Genie had outfitted him in his usual royal garb, complete with fine-tailored shoes, a silken white and violet cape, and an elegant hat with a peacock feather to top it all off. Aladdin flashed a debonair grin in the hand mirror Genie presented him with before giving the magical being a kind nod of approval.

"Pretty sharp, Genie. This looks terrific."

"Will the costume be all? Sure you don't want an elephant to go with it?" Genie joked and took aim at Abu, who quickly scrambled for cover beneath Aladdin's collar.

"Let's hope not," Iago snorted. "The monkey eats us out of house and home as it is."

Abu risked a quick peak over Aladdin's shoulder to shake a fist at Iago for the comment, then quickly resubmerged himself in the rich fabric of the tunic when he caught sight of the rash expression on Genie's face.

With that, the party embarked on the last leg of their journey, marching across the Sentinel's immense courtyard between the vast fortifications. Iago found himself more and more astounded by the magnificence of the fortress as they pressed onward; its size, scope, and stateliness were truly awe-inspiring. What's more, the closer they came to the base, the more enormous it seemed to grow, putting Iago increasingly at a loss for words. The Sentinel didn't cast a shadow over him as he neared it but rather bathed him in the warm, reassuring glow of the sunlight that reflected off its lustrous ramparts. Standing before it, he felt simultaneously smaller and safer than he had ever before.

At length they approached the main gate, an imposing steel portcullis wide enough for an army to pass through which gave passage into and through the Sentinel. One of the many soldiers stationed at the entry took note of their arrival and greeted them curiously:

"Who are you? What's your business in Cryngaine?"

Aladdin smiled his winning smile and bowed his head to the stern man. "My name is Ali," he said with teeth as radiant than the pearly walls of the Sentinel. "Prince Ali Ababwa."

---

Light washed over them as they emerged from the dark highway through Sentinel into the vibrant city of Cryngaine on the other side. If the fortress was extravagant, then this place was nothing short of exquisite, featuring stretching green lawns and the most elegant stonework Iago had ever laid eyes on. As settlements went, Cryngaine was actually quite sparse - nowhere near the booming metropolis that Agrabah was - but the sense of magnificence it conveyed was staggering. If there was any question in Iago's mind as to the wealth of the Seven Deserts, then it was answered instantaneously the moment he looked down and noticed the road beneath their feet was literally paved with gold.

"Say, Cassim," he whispered to his friend and colleague, also beleaguered by the city's splendor.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Why the heck didn't you ever knock over _this_ place when you were the King of Thieves?"

Iago felt Cassim's shoulders tense beneath his talons. The raven-haired man shot him a warning glance. "I'd keep it down if I were you, bird," he said in a low voice, his eyes drifting to the entourage of ten or so soldiers that had been assigned to accompany them.

"No, seriously, why didn't you? I mean, just look at this place! We coulda been rich!"

"Apparently, you missed the large and well-armed fortress on your way in," Cassim sighed. "The goal of any thief is to take his victim by surprise, but the Sentinel is completely prepared for anything and everything. Breaking into the city would be easy, but how would I ever get back out again? Even if I did 'knock over this place,' as you put it, I would still have to march right back through the lion's den to escape. The Sentinel is the only way in or out of Cryngaine, after all, and every soldier stationed there would be waiting there to greet me."

Iago's brow furrowed as he contemplated that. "I'll bet if you had a little semi-phenomenal nearly-cosmic power on your side..." he started.

"Even Genie wouldn't be able to teleport me out of here. The entire city is magically shielded," replied Cassim as he pointed out the glowing blue energy barrier. Iago frowned and let the subject drop.

They persisted down the broad avenue, pausing briefly to absorb the beauty of the countless sparkling water fountains and grand monuments that stood testament to the prosperity of the land. Lofty white spires and minarets cast shadows over the path and beckoned them to look up; Iago, being a parrot, had lost his fascination with such heights long ago, however, and so was content to focus his attentions elsewhere. The numerous banks that lined the road were of particular amazement to him; their vaults sprung out of the plazas like hills, the wealth of the Seven Deserts tucked safely within their thick stone walls. He had always held a certain appreciation for money, but this fortune was appalling even for him.

Iago's attentions turned to Aladdin, whom he regarded with curiosity and a sidelong glance. Quietly, he nudged Cassim and asked, "Hey, what's with the costume your kid's wearing? There some Halloween party I wasn't invited to?"

"I explained this to you already if you'd listened," said Cassim. "In Agrabah, everyone knows Jafar's in control. But awareness that an all-powerful genie's been running the show never made it across the border. Since Agrabah was conquered five years ago, Jafar's done everything in his power to conceal his identity in order to prevent it from becoming common knowledge that Aladdin was overthrown."

"Why? For what purpose?" Iago demanded.

"Jafar doesn't want to draw attention to himself. If the other leaders of the Seven Deserts had known Agrabah was taken over by a maniacal genie bent on world conquest, there would've been hell to pay. They would've invaded immediately, and Jafar would've been in and out of power in the blink of an eye. Concealing the truth gave Jafar the time he needed to rally his forces and assemble the Serpentine Legion. And by masquerading as Aladdin when he declared war on the Seven Deserts, he robbed the Order of the Lamp of all foreign support - the rest of the world believes that _Aladdin_ is the aggressor, _not_ Jafar."

"Don't they know?" Iago gaped. "Don't they have a clue what's been going on all this time?"

"They know that Agrabah is ruled by a bloodthirsty dictator who brutalizes his people. Unfortunately, they're convinced that dictator is Aladdin. And even that knowledge isn't very well-known… which is why you and I never realized anything was wrong until the fall of D'jel three months ago."

"C'mon, Cassim. Al would never do anything terrible like that!" Iago pointed out.

"You and I know that. But _they_ don't," said Cassim. "The other sultans and sultanas have never been partial to the idea of a street rat ruling a kingdom. Jafar appealed to their sentiments, and they were quick to dismiss Aladdin as your run-of-the-mill tyrant. Around here, he's got a bigger bounty on his head than the King of Thieves, and that's saying something. Jafar wants him dead, the Seven Deserts want him dead… He's a wanted man, Iago. Hence, the disguise."

"That… sucks," Iago said blunty.

"Iago, you could be a poet. You know that?"

At last, they arrived at the center of Cryngaine. Here was the colossal tower he had noticed from outside the Sentinel, a quartz-colored edifice that sprung out of the ground like a monolith. Bold and important, it lorded over every other edifice in the city, paling only in comparison to the Sentinel behind them. Its walls were round, tapering to a sharp point at its peak. There were no windows that Iago could see, and only one door marked the tower's base.

"The Imperial Palace," Aladdin whispered. "This is where the rulers of each of the Seven Deserts come to talk business. I never got a chance to visit this place... There was never any reason to talk face-to-face with other sultans. But now..." his voice trailed off.

The lead soldier among their escort exchanged a few words with a guard posted outside the door. The guard muttered something and shook his head, and his addressor laughed stiffly before gesturing to Aladdin. Frowning, the guard then stepped forward, removed his hat, and welcomed the companions with a respectful bow of the head.

"Prince Ali," he said, struggling to meet Aladdin's penetrating gaze, "The sultans are in conference right now. As stately as you are, they're not receiving petitioners or envoys at this time. I can't grant you a private audience with them. If you wish, you may listen to the discussion they are having now, or I can escort you to a domicile until they are willing to hear you."

Aladdin's smile was brimming with confidence as he waved the question aside. "I'd like an audience, but an opportunity to observe might be worthwhile. Will my subjects be able to accompany me into the throne room?"

The guard took in the sight of the dirt-smudged and travel-stained companions and blanched. Running a hand reluctantly through his beard, he replied, "I'm not sure their presence will be welcomed, but I guess if they have a prince to vouch for them..."

"Wonderful!" Aladdin exclaimed, clapping the man on the back. "Lead the way!"

He did as he was bidden, politely shuffling aside to allow Aladdin to walk in front of him and then falling into step a short distance behind. Together, the companions strode across the pristine lawn to the gaping maw that marked the entrance of the ivory tower. The soldiers that comprised their accompaniment stood down on either side as they entered the Imperial Palace.

A blast of cool air was the first thing to hit Iago as they entered the frigid foyer of the tower; the sudden absence of sunlight and the clicking of their heels on the marble floor were second and third respectively. The atrium they found themselves in was immense and vacuous, populated by several hanging tapestries, a sparse variety of plants, and a fountain here and there. There were guards stationed everywhere, especially around a colossal set of ebony doors which presumably led to the throne room - doors which were, discouragingly enough, closed. The only other exits that Iago could see were twin staircases that winded upward to the second floor and bypassed the sealed double doors. It was up one of these staircases that they headed.

At the summit of the staircase, they stepped onto a wide balcony that looked out upon a canyon of a throne room. The chamber was long and narrow, yet still large enough to run laps across. Its sand-colored walls and pillars stretched infinitely upward until all sight of them evaporated into darkness. There were no windows, and the light given off by the numerous torches that dotted the walls and the candle-decked iron chandelier dangling overhead was devoured by the coal black tile floor. Thus, the throne room was rendered melancholy and gloomy - a fitting atmosphere for the noxious scent of depression that clung to the air, poisoning their lungs as they breathed in and suffocating them as they breathed out.

A scarlet carpet ran from the tall archway marking the throne room's main entrance all the way up the steps of a dais on the far side of the chamber. On the dais, seven golden thrones, one for each ruler of the Seven Deserts, were arranged in semi-circular fashion to allow each member of the Council to look his or her colleagues in the eye. Only four of the thrones were currently occupied. Iago supposed the remaining three were reserved for the leaders of the kingdoms Jafar had already conquered: D'jel, Getzistan, and of course, Agrabah.

Presently, the monarchs that had survived Jafar's rise to power appeared to be having a rather fiery debate. Amidst the angry words that wafted up from the royal conference taking place below, Iago was able to discern that three of the rulers' protests were leveled collectively against the admonitions of a fourth. The guard that had accompanied them sidled up to Aladdin's shoulder and stifled a sigh.

"The most powerful men and women in the Seven Deserts. All of our lives are in their hands, yet all they ever seem to do anymore is argue," he muttered.

"How DARE you even suggest such a thing, Alhazred!" one of the sultans shouted at another.

The sultan apparently known as Alhazred leaned forward in his throne, resting his pointed elbows on his knees and clasping his long, bony fingers together lightly. He offered his associates a grimace from beneath the rim of his jewel-encrusted hat. "I'm not sure what you're complaining about, Calliphin. Marauder activity is on the upswing and stationing soldiers on the border will certainly put a stop to that. Weren't you the first one to complain about the impact the Marauders were having on trade caravans in your kingdom?"

"That's not the point!" roared Calliphin, an imposing, ebony-skinned giant of a man who sat well above the arched back of his throne. Meeting Alhazred's gaze with a coal black leer, he huffed with indignation, the silken mantle placed upon his broad shoulders twitching in tandem with his muscles. His hands, strong and calloused, clutched the arms of his chair as if choking an invisible neck. "There's a war going on, Alhazred, if you haven't forgotten. We need all the soldiers we can get to repel the Legion!" he rumbled.

"How can we deal with threats from abroad if we can't even keep the peace within our own borders?" Alhazred said coolly, staring Calliphin down with piercing eyes. "The Marauders are doing more than just molesting wayward travelers, you fools. They're pillaging supply routes that our soldiers are depending on! Day by day, these thieves are hampering the war effort, dragging us closer and closer toward catastrophe. And need I mention the loss of tax revenue as a result of their delinquency? Why, just yesterday, Calliphin, you were complaining about the impact the Marauders were having on merchant caravans-"

"If the Legion isn't stopped, there won't _be_ anymore taxes and there won't _be_ anymore caravans!" interjected an elegant woman sitting in the throne opposite of Alhazred. Baring her teeth with predatory fierceness, she brushed a handful of curly black locks from her face and regarded the man across from her with a hawkish glare. "This isn't about what's best for the Seven Deserts, is it? This is about what's best for your own damn royal treasury!"

"I take offense to that, Sultana," Alhazred growled.

"Why? It's the truth, pure and simple. The border your kingdom shares with Calliphin's is the only one bothered by the Marauders. _Surprise!_ Your kingdom just happens to export more goods to Calliphin's than any other! I suppose it's a coincidence you want to siphon off soldiers to protect that border now?"

"But the supply routes-"

"There are no supply routes that run across that border and you know it, you filthy liar! You don't care about the defense of the Seven Deserts, only your own pocket book!"

"Don't try to reason with him, Allaria," piped in the forth ruler, a chubby, diminutive fellow with a plump face, beady eyes, and enough wrinkles to qualify him as suitably ancient. He sneered, "I don't think any intelligent thought can penetrate that thick skull of his. I should've known I was marrying my daughter off to stupidity when your son came seeking her hand, Alhazred."

"Take that back, Herod!"

Aladdin's knuckles turned white as his grip on the edge of the balcony steadily tightened. "Politics," he snorted.

"Tragic, isn't it?" the guard responded with another click of his tongue. "To think all our lives are in their hands! They're too busy fighting each other to fight the Legion."

"Depressing indeed," said Rasoul.

"Looks like today's conference is turning sour. I'm sorry, Prince Ali, but I doubt they'll be in any mood to see you today. If you're lucky, you may be able to request an audience tomor - _hey!_"

Aladdin vaulted from the balcony, latched onto the velvety fabric of a nearby hanging tapestry, and swung out over the throne room floor in true street rat fashion. An alarm must have been raised, because no sooner had he landed nimbly on the tile than a dozen guards swarmed like angry bees from the dark nooks and crannies of the chamber, all of them dashing forward en masse and ready to pounce.

Genie whistled and zipped down to assist Aladdin without a second thought. Rasoul wasn't far behind, shoving the stunned guard who had accompanied them out of the way and leaping across the railing.

Iago met Cassim's smiling eyes. "It's never easy, is it?" the parrot grumbled, beckoning to the fight brewing below.

Cassim grinned and appeased him with a wink. "It's never boring," he chuckled.

"That's for sure," Iago sighed. And with that, the two of them jumped down to join the fray.

Confronted with Genie's semi-phenomenal nearly cosmic powers, the guards had fallen back to form a V-shaped line of defense between the rulers of the Seven Deserts and the intruders vying to reach them. "You'll never get past us alive!" one of them snarled from behind the deadly edge of his sword.

Before Iago could react, an enormous blue hand descended over him and plucked him out of the air. A squawk escaped his beak as the unpleasant sensation of being crumpled into a ball overcame him, and before he knew it he found himself rolling down the narrow alley of the throne room. He bowled into the cluster of guards with a shudder, knocking them all down before finally spinning to a nauseating halt on the far side of the chamber.

Genie whooped with glee behind him and punched the air in triumph. "STEEEEE-RIKE!" he cheered at the top of his lungs.

Iago wobbled and tried his best to stand. "Some things never change..." he said bitterly.

"_What is the meaning of this!_" Calliphin's tremendous voice burnt a hole through the short-lived din of the conflict. The parrot ventured a glance at the dais, where the royals had ceased their prattling to stand in anger at the intrusion.

Ever the courageous one, Aladdin stepped over the fallen guards and unflinchingly approached the dais. He bowed down before the monarchs, and with a flourish of his cape and a smile that spoke of all the good in his heart, assumed a kneeling position before them. "Your Majesties," he announced assuredly, "I bring urgent news about the security of the Seven Deserts. It would be in your best interests to hear me out."

Allaria flushed. Raising a finger to point out the pile of bodies lying nearby, she hissed, "Do we have any choice? You've already taken care of our guards. It's not like we could have you taken away at this point!"

"Is that a... is that a genie?" Alhazred gasped in wonderment, his hands coiled around the arms of his throne for support. "And a monkey... and a parrot!"

The monarch's eyes widened as they came to rest on the bird's still dazed and disjointed form. His face brightened with brilliant glee as he wrapped Iago in a devilish smirk. Frowning, Iago took to the air and perched on Cassim's shoulder.

Herod raised a hand to beckon for their attention. "I don't know who you are or what makes you think you have the right to barge in here like this. This is a grave insult. You're not our equal! Genie or no genie, we're still the most highly exalted rulers of the Seven Deserts, and you will be punished for this offense!" he said.

"Your Majesties, I don't mean to offend you, but what I have to say is too important to put off. I have information from a reliable source-" explained Aladdin, his eyes wandering inadvertantly to Iago, "-that this city will soon be attacked. The Legion is readying itself for a siege on the Sentinel. You're all in danger here!"

"Preposterous!" Calliphin scoffed. "The Legion doesn't have the money or the manpower to siege the Sentinel. Attacking Cryngaine would be insane!"

Aladdin grimaced. "The Legion has all the gold of Getzistan and all the population of D'jel to back it up. If you highly exalted rulers of the Seven Deserts don't act quickly, your kingdoms will suffer the same fate as Agrabah and her neighbors."

Herod snorted. "Absurd. You make it sound like we're at war with an empire! Agrabah isn't a force to be reckoned with. Agrabah was a two-bit member of the alliance whose two-bit sultan just happened to catch us off-guard when he declared war on the Seven Deserts. A traitorous action to be sure, but what else would one expect from a street rat who married into royalty? In due time, Aladdin will be held accountable for the war he's created. The Legion will be destroyed, Getzistan and D'jel will be reclaimed by the Seven Deserts, and their proper dynasties will be restored."

_The kingdoms are falling one-by-one, Mozenrath. They've already turned against me. If we don't do something to reclaim them now, they will fall under _his _control, and I guarantee they will turn against you._ The conversation with Mozenrath played annoyingly in Iago's mind until at last, his exasperation reached a boiling point.

The Council wouldn't listen? Well, they were in for a wakeup call.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Iago broke into the conversation. Cassim shot him a warning look, which he deliberately ignored. "Hey, _oh highly_ _exalted_ leaders of the Seven Deserts - that's right, I'm talking to you, pinhead, and the rest of you morons twiddling your thumbs up there on your thrones! In the last thirty days I've been beaten within an inch of my life, blown out of the sky by a fireball, attacked by Marauders, assaulted by the undead, and dragged kicking and screaming half way across the Seven Deserts! And I gotta tell you, compared to putting up with you geniuses, all that other stuff was easy! Sitting here listening to you idiots flap your gums like a bunch of brainless chickens, now this - THIS is torture!"

"How _dare_ you-"

"I DIDN'T COME HERE TO LET SOME STUCK-UP PRISSY PRINCESS LECTURE ME ON PROPER COURT ETIQUETTE!" Iago blasted at Allaria, who quickly fell silent.

"You think Agrabah isn't a force to be reckoned with? GET A CLUE. Aladdin hasn't been sultan of Agrabah for five years now! The monarchy was deposed by an all-powerful genie named Jafar, who's been impersonating Aladdin this whole time - and more importantly, who's been raising the strongest army in the Seven Deserts RIGHT UNDER YOUR DAINTY LITTLE NOSES. There, I've said it! Now what are you nitwit royals gonna DO about it!"

The sultana's eyes narrowed as she digested Iago's speech. The torches flickered and cast menacing shadows across her features, turning her expression into one of brooding and accusation.

"Are you quite finished?" she asked icily.

Iago stuck a wingtip to his chin in mock consideration. "Hmm, that's tough, let me see if there's any other stupidity I can call you morons out on - nope, I think I just about covered everyth – oomph!"

"Er, please excuse my parrot!" Cassim said quickly, clamping Iago's beak uncomfortably shut. "He's crazy. Stark-raving mad. Hasn't a clue what he's talking about. Really!"

"YOU!" Calliphin leveled an accusatory finger to single Cassim out of the crowd. He trembled with such fury Iago was sure he was about to pounce. "I know who you are! I'd recognize your face anywhere! YOU'RE THE KING OF THIEVES!"

"_Seize them,_" Herod said woodenly.

Cassim winced and tried to interject, but Calliphin was on a tirade now. "How DARE you show your face here in Cryngaine, Cassim! You almost bankrupt my estate last year when you robbed my palace treasury blind. I don't know how you managed to pull that little stunt now, but I swear I'll make you pay for it. I'll make you _bleed_ for it! If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll see you to the executioner's tower at dusk -"

"Oh, for pity's sake, Calliphin, would you give it a rest already?" Alhazred cut him off. "I'm surprised in you. Haven't you realized who we're dealing with yet?"

"What are you talking about?" Calliphin snarled.

"Come now, open your eyes! We've all heard the legend of Aladdin, the great adventurer who risked life and limb to defend his people from the Land of the Black Sand. Before Agrabah declared war on the Seven Deserts, it was rumored he stood toe-to-toe with Mozenrath... along with a genie, a monkey, and a talking parrot."

"Of course we've heard the stories, but that's all they were: stories," Calliphin snarled. "The real Aladdin is a dictator, not a hero."

"Calliphin," Alhazred said gently, "look in front of you and tell me what you see."

He did as he was told, glaring at Aladdin, Cassim, and all the rest in turn, processing the identities of all in the party - which included, among other things, a genie, a monkey, and a talking parrot. At last, realization dawned on him.

"YOU!" Calliphin gaped. "YOU'RE HIM?"

Aladdin smiled weakly and issued a cordial nod. "That's... that's right," he said warily, none too enthused about being forced into laying all of his cards on the table. He shot daggers at Iago. "I'm Aladdin, the rightful sultan of Agrabah and commander of the Order of the Lamp. These are my generals, Genie, Cassim, and Rasoul. The monkey is my friend, Abu. The parrot with the big mouth is Iago."

While Alhazred beamed all the more at this revelation, the other members of the Council stood rigid in place, stunned beyond words. "You're - you're - _you're_ Aladdin?" Allaria finally managed to choke out.

"I… I… In the flesh," Aladdin sighed.

"_Seize them,_" Herod hissed again.

Alhazred laughed derisively. "Getting a tad forgetful in your old age, Herod? His genie took out all our guards! Either way, I don't think we need to have this man imprisoned. His story has a ring of truth to it."

"But-"

"Think about it! Why would Aladdin, our greatest enemy, sultan of Agrabah and commander of the Legion, come all the way to Cryngaine and march straight into the lion's den just to tell us a fairy tale about evil genies? He's defeated our guards! He has us right where he wants us! Yet he hasn't killed us! That alone is enough to give me pause. Besides, this man doesn't look like someone who would torture and murder innocent people like the stories we've heard about Aladdin have claimed," said Alhazred.

Aladdin's peacock feather scraped the floor as he bowed down to Alhazred. In that moment, an immeasurable burden was lifted from the room and even the air around them felt lighter. A golden glow washed over Aladdin's face as all the torches and candles appeared to flare with renewed vigor, a testament to the restoration of Aladdin's good name and their newfound resolve to drive back the darkness. In reality, it was nothing of the sort - Genie had merely decided to shine a spotlight down on Aladdin from the ceiling to commemorate the occasion - but the symbolism was reassuring nonetheless.

Aladdin snorted loudly at Genie's escapades before turning his attention back to the rulers of the Seven Deserts. "I can explain the situation better later, but first, you've got to understand the danger you're all in. Everything Iago told you is true. Jafar is massing the Legion at the border of D'jel in preparation for an attack on the Sentinel. I don't know when he'll move ahead with his plans, but you can bet on it happening eventually, sooner rather than later."

"If what you're saying is true, we'll dispatch a scout party to the border right away to verify the danger," Alhazred affirmed.

The remaining rulers stared at their colleague with blank, startled faces. "We will?" Calliphin said incredulously.

"And in case my colleagues get any ideas about locking you up in the dungeons and throwing away the key, as of this moment I am declaring you a ward of my kingdom. Aladdin, until we've sorted out this whole affair, I'm extending you and your companions full diplomatic immunity, as is my right as a member of this Council."

"Alhazred, you're out of your mind!" Herod yelled.

Alhazred ignored them. "In the meantime, why don't you and your friends get some rest, Aladdin? You've obviously come a long way. Besides, there isn't anything we could prepare for that couldn't be better dealt with after a good night's sleep."

"No time for relaxation. If it isn't a problem, I'd rather start going over the specifics of what's happened over the last five years and what we're facing now. Later, when your scout party returns, I'd also like to take a first-hand look at the Sentinel's defenses and see for myself just how much work needs to be done."

"I'll go with you," said Rasoul.

"In that case, I'll have my most trusted servant escort the rest of your company to a dormitory," Alhazred said with an amiable smile. "He's a bit rough around the edges, but don't be alarmed. He's completely loyal and does only what his master tells him to do."

He clapped his hands and a familiar face appeared from behind a pillar. Iago gasped. That milky skin, that golden hair, the same unfaltering, uncouth demeanor he'd shown in the tavern so long ago. He would know the man anywhere.

Leon!

---

"Knight to A4!"

The petite white Chess piece stirred magically on Genie's command, sliding two square's over and one square up to bypass Abu's rapidly advancing line of defense. A smug smile touched his face once the move had been made, and he relaxed contentedly in his armchair as his hand dipped into a bowl of grapes placed off to the side. Abu studied the board while his nemesis tossed back his head and dropped the tiny fruits into his mouth one at a time.

Genie swayed from side to side as if rocking gently on a cloud. "Nice try, Abu, but you're nowhere near as good a Chess player as Carpet! You might as well give up now seeing how you've got no chance to win."

Leon shook his head and spoke up, "Be cautious. This game isn't over yet."

"What, you think he's gonna beat me? Fat chance of that!" Genie scoffed. As if to illustrate his point, he emptied the bowl of grapes into his brimming mouth and swallowed, causing his belly to swell to twice its size.

"I'm not saying he will," Leon warned. "I'm saying be cautious. Danger comes from where you least expect it."

Iago listened to their conversation halfheartedly from his seat on the sofa on the opposite side of the royal apartment, fraught with boredom and jaded to a tee. With nothing better to do, he stared past the decorative curtains and cracked, granite balcony at the twinkling lights of the city below. Cassim's approach startled him, but not enough to rouse him from his reverie. As he heard his friend shuffle across the carpet and sit down in an armchair nearby, the parrot merely yawned and sunk deeper into the couch.

"Tired?" Cassim wondered.

"Bored," Iago corrected. "Nothing to do in this stuffy place. I actually considered going out for a fly, but considering how many guards they've got stationed outside the exits, I figure they're not too keen on us leaving. They've probably got ten crossbows trained on this window alone."

"I've never known you to bow to authority before."

"Shooting skeet's fun and all, but I didn't envision myself _being_ the skeet when we planned this little vacation."

Iago let his eyes droop and snuggled with one of the couch's many satin pillows. For now, he allowed himself a pause to mull over all that had happened in the last several weeks, to reflect on all he had learned.

Jazel's face haunted his memories. Having finally been made aware of who the girl was and all that had befallen her in her lifetime, Iago found it staggering how alike the two of them were. From her upbringing to her worldly outlook to her subservience to Jafar... Her life was practically a mirror image of Iago's. He pitied her for that. _History really does repeat itself._

Jasmine was present in his mind as well, the thin scar that marked the side of her face a perennial testament to the pain and destruction Jafar had inflicted upon them all. Cassim was there too. And Aladdin. But to Iago's dismay, the visage that clouded his thoughts more than any other was Mozenrath's.

"'_And gives to the Betrayed in stress that which neither doth possess to spare the world from evil's thrall,_"' Iago recited from memory. He shivered as he ran his wingtips across his throat, which he now knew Mozenrath had sliced open unmercifully to drain his blood in accordance with the spell. Stupid prophecy. Stupid dagger.

Beside him, Cassim stared expressionlessly into space, obviously deep in contemplation.

"What d'you think it means?" the parrot asked.

A scowl stole across Cassim's face as he leaned forward in his chair and ran his hand thoughtfully through his beard. "You defied Jafar, didn't you?" he surmised. "You were the one who pretended to be loyal to him and then defeated him by kicking his lamp into a pit of boiling lava..."

"Lotta good that did," Iago said darkly.

"...so I assume that would make you the Betrayer and Jafar the Betrayed."

"But it doesn't make any sense! Jafar wants to _kill_ me! How am I supposed to _give_ him anything? Do you think if I gift wrap the stupid whatever-it-is and mail it to him with some flowers and a box of chocolates, he'll overlook the fact that I sold him down the river?"

"I wish I had an answer for you, Iago," Cassim sighed.

But Iago blustered on, "Speaking of which, just what am I supposed to give Jafar, anyway? '_And gives to the betrayed in stress that which neither doth possess..._' How can I give away something I don't have? How's that even possible!"

"I don't know, Iago. But whatever the answer is, I'm sure we'll figure it out eventually together. We have to. We have no choice."

The parrot planted his wings behind his head grumbled, "Hmph. Prophecy my tailfeathers! You know, I've always hated fortune telling. Very imprecise branch of magic, y'know, nowhere near as refined as the Dark Arts."

"Knight to C3!" Genie's boasted triumphantly.

Cassim shot Genie a look and caught sight of Leon out of the corner of his eye. Suspicion decked his face as he absorbed the European's agile form, from his well-toned face down past the leather straps of his jerkin and boots. He seemed perfectly at ease standing over the Chess game, smiling at Genie's missteps and diligently presenting his observations to Abu. Yet something seemed off about it. Something wasn't quite right.

"What are the odds we'd run into him again? And in Cryngaine of all places! Small world, eh?" muttered Iago.

"I don't like it. Too much of a coincidence," said Cassim. "There's something... off about him. I don't know what it is, but my gut is telling me to be wary. And if there's one thing I've learned from being the King of Thieves, it's to always trust your gut."

"Cassim, you're paranoid. You know that?"

"Say what you will, but I'm keeping an eye on him. He gives off a bad aura."

"A bad aura! Jeeze, Cassim, there you go with more fortune telling superstition! Are you going out of your way to rile my feathers tonight? I told you that prophecy stuff was a load of cock and bull!"

"It's not prophecy, it's perception!"

"You mean paranoia?" Iago chided.

They bickered back and forth like that for some time until at last, Iago grew tired and surrendered, letting his head sink into security of the cushion. Shivering slightly, he hugged a satin pillow close to his body to shield himself from the evening breeze. Having given up the argument, the parrot found himself overcome with tiredness. His eyes were in a blurred spot between open and shut. His breathing was deep and rhythmic.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm just being stupid," he concluded. Instantly, he felt Cassim's eyes on him. "It's just that... well... a lot's happened lately, y'know? It's not only this prophecy thing. Breaking out of the laboratory, finding out _you_ were alive, meeting people I haven't seen hide nor hair of in almost a decade-"

"-and seeing how they've all changed," his friend nodded with understanding.

"I was going to say a lot of them are the same, actually. Jasmine and Genie and Carpet and Abu are all exactly as I remember them. Al, on the other hand... Yeah, he has changed. He's still the same guy and all, just... you know... different. When he was holding that sword to Mozenrath's neck, I was sure he was gonna murder him in cold blood right then and there. Not that Mozey doesn't deserve it, mind you - he does! But killing people is just... not Aladdin."

"You've changed too, you know, Iago."

Iago winced with the pain of an open wound. Jasmine's constructive words were a ballad in his head, yet they clashed with the traitorous portrait Jafar had painted for him. "If you say so," he complied, though his voice belied the torrential conflict within him.

Cassim said nothing, so Iago took the opportunity to vent his frustrations further. He began, "When did everything become so complicated? Life used to be a piece of cake for us. We went wherever we wanted to go, did whatever we wanted to do, no commitments, no responsibilities, no strings attached. Then, one day, you're captured, you're imprisoned, you're freed, you find out an insane genie who wants you put to death is on the verge of taking over the world, your friend's daughter has been kidnapped and brainwashed, your friend's wife was nearly murdered, and it's all somehow partially your fault because you were an unknowing pawn in some cryptic prophecy. It's a lot to handle. Y'know, the last couple nights I've stayed awake wondering if I shouldn't have stayed with Jasmine and Carpet back at the Den of the Forty Thieves, far away from this stupid war. I feel like I'm going insane here."

"Wars tend to do that to people," an unfamiliar voice spoke up tersely behind him.

Iago's eyes bulged and he turned to see Leon grinning down at him over the back of the couch. He clamped a wing over his beak. Idiot! Had Leon overheard him divulge the secret headquarters of the Order?

"How long have you been listening in on our conversation?" Cassim asked coolly.

Leon's eyes glimmered with... with something Iago couldn't quite put his finger on. He blew a strand of blonde hair out of his face and hopped onto the couch, creating a nest for himself in the pillows beside Iago.

"Long enough," he answered mysteriously. Drumming his nails on the armrest, he met Cassim's piercing stare with a smile.

"It's not polite to eavesdrop, you know."

"Relax, I'm on your side!" Leon chuckled. Stretching his legs, he continued, "So you really are the Father of Aladdin and the King of Thieves too! And all this time I thought you were out of your mind. Never woulda expected you to be telling the truth. Fancy seeing you two here in Cryngaine after all this time, eh? It's been what - three, four months?"

"Three and a half."

"Not long at all," Leon mused. "Suffice it to say I fled D'jel with due haste after the Legion won the battle. I made tracks back to Cryngaine, delivered my intelligence to Alhazred, and I've been here ever since. Alhazred's a bit eccentric, but he pays well and he keeps his promises, which is more than I can say for Calliphin, Herod, and Allaria. He has friends in high places, and let me tell you, they're not the sort to be trifled with. Which is why I'm content to call him my master."

"I see," Cassim said flatly.

"_Iago! Cassim! Come over and see this! I'm about to win!"_

Iago groaned but reluctantly departed his sanctuary on the sofa. Genie would never let them hear the end of it if he won his first game against Abu with no witnesses.

He was mildly surprised. It was true: Abu had indeed been caught in a rather sticky situation. Genie smacked his lips, savoring the taste of victory.

"Like I said, Abu, no chance to win! Get a load of this! Knight to D1!"

The horseman charged forth, leapt clear over a line of pawns, and hit the ground on the same tile as Abu's white queen. The lady shrieked and tried to block the crushing blows that followed with her scepter, but it was a futile effort; her jewel-encrusted staff splintered and the knight beat her. The adjacent king could only look on mournfully with tears in his eyes as his beloved was dragged off to the side of the board by her hair. The knight then resumed his stately post astride his street, a malicious glint in his eye.

"How'd... how'd you make that happen?" Iago gasped.

Genie's forehead bore a lightning-shaped scar as he transformed into a young boy wearing spectacles. "That's wizard's Chess!" he exclaimed.

"Capturing your enemy's queen is an important part of any Chess game," Leon said calmly. "But it often distracts from the larger war at hand. Never forget the long shot that can come from afar and pave the way to Checkmate."

Abu took the opportunity to bring out his bishop, putting the black king in check diagonally. The marble monarch gasped in alarm at the attack as his attendants burst into frenzied conversation. Genie, blinded with confidence, dispatched the king to confront the bishop directly - a strategy which only served the place the piece in greater peril.

Finally, the game was won. The black king crumpled at the conquering hands of the white bishop. Genie threw up his arms in disgust and retreated to the far side of the apartment. Leon simply smiled and grinned knowingly as if he had expected such an outcome all along.

---

It hadn't taken long to leap into action once reports of an invasion force massing on D'jel's border arrived later that evening. News of a fearsome red genie towering high above the troops and trebuchets sent the Council into such a panic that all suspicion of Aladdin was dispelled and his guard duty peeled off to reinforce the army. That was fortunate, because amid the fear that gripped sultan and general alike, Aladdin needed all the access to the Sentinel that he could get to prepare for the coming war.

Under his direction, the sentinels marched out of their barracks straight by line and by file instead of in chaotic disarray. Weapons and armaments were shelled out. Defenses were mounted, bows set with arrows and catapults with stones. The civilian populace was swiftly evacuated, although the holy men were kept on hand until the final hour to conduct religious rites for the many who would perish by the war's end. For all their talk about standing strong, Iago noticed the Council had no qualms about fleeing, for the sultans and the sultana had departed with the last caravan and left Aladdin and the army to fend for themselves.

But as much preparation had been made, there was no time to call in troops from distant fronts to garrison the Sentinel's shaky defenses. They were too far away and the Legion was on the move, fast marching to engage in battle.

"It's too convenient," Aladdin had said a day and some hours earlier when scouts returned bearing news of the sudden offensive. "The Legion's been perched on that border for _weeks_ now, taking all the time in the world to prepare for a siege on the Sentinel while the Seven Deserts have been none the wiser. Then, the _very same day_ we come to Cryngaine and alert the Council to his plans, Jafar decides out of the blue that the time is ripe to attack? No, it's too convenient. Jafar knew we were onto him because somebody told him. There's a spy in our midst. There has to be."

Thankfully, their own intelligence was on the mark despite their vulnerability to espionage. The enemy, ten thousand strong (just as Iago had predicted), now stretched before them in an endless sea of red and black, a churning, hellish inferno of humanity. As Iago took in the sight of them from the observation platform high atop the fortress, he felt every ray of hope alive inside him snuffed out.

Lightning flared in the black sky above and illuminated the legionnaires' faces. What he saw mystified him: not the sinister horde he'd heard so much about, but _human beings._ They were men devoid of hope, drained of life, who dragged their feet forward day after day not out of devotion to their master, but because they had no other choice. There was no such thing as free will anymore in Agrabah nor anywhere else in Jafar's empire: you did what you were told or you suffered, or your loved ones suffered, or everything and everyone you ever cared about was torn down and destroyed. It was bizarre yet vaguely reassuring to realize not everyone had been twisted, that some things were uncorruptible.

Then came Jafar on a steed the color of midnight. High above his army he raised his golden snake staff, and from its ruby eyes exploded a beam of ruby light which buried itself in the eyes and chest cavities of legionnaire after legionnaire, spreading in a web throughout the throng. Half the Legion fell dead on the spot. The enemy's ranks thinned considerably. But those who survived raised a frenzied roar and all at once seemed ten times stronger, fiercer, more menacing. When lightning flared again, there was no more humanity, but only the sinister horde of legend.

"So much for uncorrputable," Iago muttered.

Cassim was aghast with disbelief beside him. "What just happened! What did he just do!""

"It's called a bloodlust spell. Turns everyone it's cast on into a mindless killing machine. Everyone who lives through it, that is," Iago felt repulsed as he explained.

"Hate to say it, Al, but the chance of us surviving just went from small to infinitesimal," Genie said, tossing a binome casually over his shoulder.

"He just murdered his own people!" Cassim roared. "That's-"

Aladdin was discouraged, but he still flashed his trademark reassuring smile. "That's why we're going to win. Why we have to win. Because if we don't, those are the kind of atrocities the innocent people of the Seven Deserts will have to live under - and die under - day in and day out. The odds are against us, but we'll still fight. We'll fight and we may lose, but we'll still fight. We won't let Jafar win without contest, not while I've got breath left in my body and strength in my soul."

But was such bloodshed really necessary? If war would do nothing but delay an end which was inevitable, was it really worth the cost in human life? The death toll would be huge, the slaughter staggering. And all for what end? What purpose? What future would such a sacrifice buy?

Rasoul squinted at the battlefield. "What's our plan of action?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know how we're gonna pull this one off," said Iago.

Aladdin explained, "We can't let the Sentinel fall. If the Legion occupies Cryngaine, all cooperation between the last four kingdoms will evaporate. The Seven Deserts would fall to Jafar one by one, then Persia, Europe, the Orient… The world stands a lot to lose. We've got to make our stand here.

"I called back the armies from the D'jel and Ghezistani fronts and sent a dispatch to the Order of the Lamp. All of our troops are well underway. Jafar attacked sooner than we expected though, and it'll still be hours before either force arrives. We have to keep the Legion at bay at least until then."

"Formations?" said Rasoul.

"I'll take the point. Rasoul, you've got the eastern and western battalions. Genie, we'll need you on the front lines. Do whatever you can to keep Jafar occupied. If you can't stop him, then I will," vowed Aladdin.

"What about me?" Cassim chimed in.

"I… want you to stay out of this battle, Dad. It's too dangerous."

Iago felt the muscles in his partner's shoulders tense beneath his talons. _Oh boy, he's not going to like that. No sir-ee, not one bit._

Cassim's leer could have made a statue out of a gorgon.

"Aladdin, I'm old enough to take care of myself. And while time may be creeping up on me, I assure you, I'm not useless yet!"

Rasoul guffawed. "Face it, old man! With that injury of yours, you'd be a sitting duck down there! Maybe if you hadn't let that Marauder take a shot at your shoulder, you'd stand a chance, but now you're not fit enough to carry water to the sidelines."

"This is the most critical moment of our lives! You _need_ men! I won't stand idly by and watch this massacre play out!" Cassim seethed.

"Please, Dad. It just isn't safe," said Aladdin. "I've already lost enough family courtesy of Jafar. I don't think I could bear to lose you too."

Cassim's countenance softened considerably.

"Please, Dad. Stay here where it's safe."

The graying man heaved a reluctant sigh. "Very well, Aladdin. I'll keep my nose clear of the battle if it means so much you, even though it bothers the hell out of me."

Aladdin smiled and took his father into a tight embrace, knocking Iago off Cassim's shoulder with a squawk. "Thank you," he whispered.

Then he kneeled down and looked the parrot in the eye. Iago felt suddenly unnerved.

"What's up, Al?"

"Watch him, Iago. Make certain he doesn't do anything reckless. Keep him safe."

"Sure thing, kid. Good luck," Iago muttered.

Storm clouds stewed in the heavens, swirling and churning in an aerial soup, blotting out the sun and its bullets of warmth. As Aladdin turned on his heel toward the stairs and the battlefield below, the soft knell of thunder pierced the sky's gray walls and echoed in the hearts of every man present.

"Where are you going?" Cassim shouted after him.

Aladdin replied gravely, "To address the troops. People can't live without hope; they're sure as hell not going to die without it."

---

The Sentinel unclenched its marble jaws to let Aladdin through. From valor's refuge to blessed honor's field, he rode with the fates of millions piles on his shoulders, yet he kept a straight back and a straight face in defiance of a weighty fear. Cryngaine's defenders battered him with doubt as he galloped in front of them, but his resolution was built upon impregnable rocks. He would not be deterred.

"Some of you have heard my story from your commanders and know me for who I am! My name is Aladdin, and once I was a sultan who loved his fellow man and placed his people above his throne! I was a loyal son, a devoted husband, and a loving father.

"Today, the Seven Deserts teeter on the brink of destruction. Behind you lies Cryngaine, the greatest home of man. The sum of humanity's hopes is shielded behind these walls - these walls which YOU DEFEND! Know yourselves for the heroes you are: not grunts in a war you've got nothing to do with, not peons to be trampled or fodder for another man's glory, but CHAMPIONS OF VIRTUE, guardians of peace and justice in the face of absolute evil! Look upon yourselves and feel empowered by everything you stand for!

"Once I was a sultan, a king among his people, but today that distinction is MEANINGLESS. For today, my blood will mix with yours on the field of battle and it will all bleed the same color red. Today, I will fight alongside you, and it will be my HONOR to do so.

"The honor will be yours too, and all those who fled or stayed abed will consider themselves CURSED that they weren't here today to share in the glory! And years from now when you sit safely in your homes with your families around, you'll pull up your sleeves and show off the scars you earned this day. Your tale will be passed on to your children and to your children's children: how darkness trembled before the light, how you did not give up without a fight, how you stood brave and tall in the face of death and fought, not for one city, not for seven kingdoms, but for the very STATURE OF MAN! How they could ravage our countries and rip apart our families, but they could never extinguish the burning light of our FREEDOM!

"WE SHALL FIGHT! For those who have fallen, for those whom we love. The end that lies ahead is uncertain, but the triumph of our spirit will live on in the hearts of every righteous man!"

Earthquakes, tempests, and molten infernos paled in comparison to the battle cry raised below. The fervor was fueled with by a resonant roar, the opening notes of the horns of war.

"Sharpen your honor upon your swords! TO WAR, my champions! TO WAR!"

Thus began the Battle of Cryngaine: with music. A civilized intro to a symphony of death: the most barbarous and bloody affair in the history of Arabian Nights.

The Legion charged forth with the sound of a maelstrom, swords and axes flashing in time with the lightning. Archers let loose their arrows from the Sentinel on high, but Jafar's forsaken followers pressed onward, paying no attention to the feathered shafts which lodged themselves in limbs and chests.

Then came the first wave of siege defenses when the Sentinel's catapults flung their stones into the battlefield, and this was marginally successful - until Jafar rose into the air as a fearsome red genie, deflecting the projectiles off his meaty arms or catching them in his palms. Those rocks he deflected bounced off and landed amidst the sentinels; those rocks he caught, he threw at the walls of the Sentinel like a pitcher on a mound, creating thick cracks in the fortress' walls, crushing archers beneath the rubble.

"Hold the catapults! Cease fire! CEASE FIRE!" a general cried.

Genie appeared with a mysterious silver tube in hand, raised it onto his shoulder, and fired! A rocket whooshed above the battlefield and exploded in Jafar's face, reducing him to his human form and flinging him backward. Genie blew the smoke from his bazooka and smiled, "Carry on!"

"Load the catapults! Make ready for a second volley!"

The two armies collided on the battlefield below. Atop the bodies and among the craters, they fought. But the Legion was a thresher, slicing and dicing through friendly lines, one bloodlusted warrior clearing his way through seven or eight sentinels at a time. Iago held his breath as it seemed the line was about to break! But just as the clock was about to strike doomsday, Rasoul appeared with two hundred reinforcements, and the Legion was slowly pushed back.

Jafar levitated into the clouds and proceeded to throw crimson lightning bolts into the fray like a mad Olympian. Aladdin was forging through the front lines when his world was suddenly lit up with electricity. His comrades on either side collapsed into smoldering heaps, but he wouldn't back down, not even with death raining down on him.

Now Genie appeared again as a blue hedgehog with a shimmering energy sphere surrounding him. Jafar tossed a lightning bolt, but Genie was immune. Smiling devilishly, he jumped, then jumped a _second time_ off of thin air, reaching Jafar easily and knocking him out of the sky. Jafar retaliated with a barrage of fireballs and sent Genie flying as dozens of gold rings littered the ground.

Jafar descended again to the ground. With a flick of the wrist, his snake staff transformed. A glossy shield adorned with the head of a serpent appeared in his fist; the head was alive, snapping at sentinels and striking them down with lethal venom while his fire-coated claymore sliced through air, skin, and bone. The legionnaires were bolstered by their master's presence; they breathed in his dark aura, they drank his malevolence, and they advanced on all fronts.

There was nothing Genie could do to stand in the way of this assault. Despite all the magic tricks he had up his sleeve, he still couldn't kill. That Jafar surrounded himself with living, breathing legionnaires effectively nullified Genie's offensive potential, so he donned his nurse outfit and did what he could to salvage the war effort - on the sidelines.

Unfortunately, Jafar didn't abide by the same cosmic rulebook as Genie. As he mowed through row upon row of sentinel defenders, it was evident that this volatile force of the supernatural was no longer constrained by lamps or shackles.

"My, my! Isn't the war going to plan?" spoke a sinister voice.

The butterflies in Iago's stomach were stirred by a sudden cackle that seemed to barrage him from all sides. There, standing with arms crossed and a less than humble smile, was Mozenrath. Iago didn't know where he'd come from, for he was sure the observation deck had been vacant moments ago. Yet there the sorcerer was, snickering and smirking from the murky twilight that haunted a corner of the room, a shadow within a shadow.

Cassim growled, "You're late."

Mozenrath waved him aside. "Who cares? The street rat could use a slaughter to take him down a few pegs. What's a few thousand senseless deaths between friends, eh? Well, no matter. I'll win the battle myself!"

"You overestimate yourself," Cassim spat.

"Oh, _please._ For my sake, let's not start _that_ again."

With that, Mozenrath raised his Gauntlet high in the air.

Somewhere on the battlefield, a skeletal hand burst out of the soil. It was followed by a skeletal arm, then a skeletal elbow. Within moments a small army of crimson bonewalkers had materialized on the field. They were as fragile as the cartilage that comprised them, but they were also innumerable; every time one was shattered by a stampeding legionnaire, two more shot out of the ground to take its place.

And Mozenrath's ranks were bolstered even more when every brave sentinel and legionnaire who had fallen that day was awakened from the sleep of death by the terrifying power of the Gauntlet. Thousands of corpses reanimated against the laws of God and nature shuffled to their feet and railed against Jafar's army with the weight of immortality behind them.

Off on the sidelines where Genie had been operating, Iago spied dozens of dead soldiers ambling out of body bags and off of operating tables to resume their posts on the front lines, even as their bodies bled with grievous wounds and their organs hung out like a pig's at the slaughterhouse.

Iago felt his stomach retch.

And that was when it occurred to him why Mozenrath was so late. What better way to establish an army of the undead than to let a mountain of corpses pile up ahead of time?

"You - you cold-blooded piece of-" Cassim seethed.

Mozenrath smirked. "I try."

The electricity of the Gauntlet surrounded him. When it dispersed, no longer was Mozenrath clad in his sorcerer's regalia, but a black suit armor and an ebony cloak. He stepped off the edge of the observation deck and soared down to the battlefield.

Meanwhile, the sentinels fled in terror. Faced with the onslaught of Jafar's legionnaires in front and the wailing undead behind, the lines broke, and even the most disciplined men ran screaming for their lives. Rasoul quickly found himself drained of all support, and Iago could only watch helplessly as the encroaching army overcame him.

Someone within the Sentinel sounded the horn to retreat. That didn't deter Aladdin, though. With scimitar in hand he proceeded to hack and slack his way through legionnaires and undead alike, hell-bent on confronting Jafar.

Mozenrath beat him to the punch, his feet scraping the dust a scant fifteen feet in front of Jafar, and recognition flashed in the depths of their eyes as they shared a look of the utmost contempt. Concurrently, each conjured a blazing ball of energy in his hands and flung it at the other: Jafar's an inferno of red, Mozenrath's an orb of the inkiest black.

Fire and lightning arced across the sky, weaving hell and earth that much closer together, a beacon of doom shining down on the ravaged world below as the battlefield exploded into chaos! Shockwaves rippled across the land and sent feet flying as combatants suddenly found themselves on uneven turf, and in their wake surged forth a brilliant flickering dome that incinerated sentinels, legionnaires, and undead without distinction! Not even Iago and Cassim high atop the fortress were safe from the torrential downpour of blood and body parts. And when the dust cleared, there were Jafar and Mozenrath locked in mortal combat, the staff and the Gauntlet vying for supremacy in a deadly contest of attrition!

"You insolent, arrogant, swaggering son of a jackal!" Jafar's voice blew stronger than a headwind across the battlefield. "How DARE you show your face to me HERE, NOW, on the very EVE of my conquest over the Seven Deserts, and stand in the way of my victory! And after the MERCY that I showed you..."

"Mercy?" Mozenrath sneered. "You left me curled up on the floor of my own miserable citadel, drained of magic, with a bloody stub where my wrist should've been! After all the pains I went through to release your soul from _Jahannam_, you bit the hand that fed you, you sniveling worm!"

"DESERT RAT! I swallowed the fruit of the _Zaqqum_ and I ENJOYED it! You stole me from death to be your obedient dog, your own omnipotent genie-on-a-leash to satisfy your craving for magic! You should know that pets aren't always loyal - believe me, I know from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE!"

That one made Iago wince. It also sparked his ire to the boiling point, and he was just about ready to glide down there and give the tyrant a piece of his mind when Jafar summoned a massive, fiery meteorite from the heavens and brought it crashing down on Mozenrath's head! After that little parlor trick he decided his goose was better left uncooked.

"If it weren't for the RESPECT I had for Destane and his estate, I would've done this YEARS AGO!" thundered Jafar.

Mozenrath blanketed himself in a black dome of magic and the meteorite shattered into a million jagged pieces upon it. With a flick of his wrist, he levitated the red-hot rubble into the air and sent it shooting like an endless stream of bullets toward Jafar, growling, "Since you seem to have enjoyed the torments of Hell so much, here's hoping I see you there!"

Jafar jettisoned himself from the ground to dodge the barrage of rocks, the wind snatching his cloak and turban as he raced across the stormy horizon, but no matter where he swooped or dived, Mozenrath directed his meteorite shards and shadowbolts to intercept him until Jafar could do nothing but weave in and out of the sorcerer's onslaught, and just when it looked like he had been outmatched-

"JAZEL!"

-Iago's heart sunk.

The little girl was oblivious to the masses of the dead and dying as she traipsed past the devastated ranks of the Legion. She gazed across the field at Mozenrath with eyes blacker than the grief that clutched her.

Energy seemed to evaporate from Mozenrath's limbs. "My magic..." he gasped numbly.

The last chunks of molten rock under Mozenrath's power dropped straight down out of the heavens like the lifeless stones they were, crushing huge swaths of bonewalkers. Jafar's feet touched the ground again as he wrapped Jazel in his left arm and clutched the snake staff with his right.

"That's a good girl," Jafar chuckled into Jazel's ear. "Now restrain him. Just like we practiced."

The arcane power Jazel radiated from her every line and contour shattered all earthly limits to embrace the ethereal. Now a new darkness enveloped Mozenrath and he doubled over gasping, brought to his knees by the sheer domination of Jazel's spirit. The air all around crackled with ill portent.

One of the legionnaires on the sidelines went down hard, his face was screwed up with pain as it smashed into the ground, kicking up a sizeable cloud of dust. Standing over him was Aladdin, fingers itching at the hilt.

"Don't touch her, Jafar." His voice wavered. "_Get your hands off her._"

"Lose something, boy?" Jafar grinned as he tenderly stroked Jazel's hair. "I'm not surprised. One wouldn't expect much in the way of parental responsibility from a STREET RAT!"

A fireball scorched the trim of Aladdin's cape, but he whirled out of the way at the last second to avoid bodily harm, dashing forward with steadfast determination and deflecting all of Jafar's blazing attacks off his scimitar - until he too was surrounded by a dark aura and bought shuddering to his knees next to Mozenrath.

"Jazel!" Aladdin managed to strangle out.

"You should be proud, street rat. She's performed most obediently today, wouldn't you say?" laughed Jafar.

Smiling devilishly to himself, he took careful aim with the snake staff, placing both Aladdin and Mozenrath within the weapon's ruby sights.

"Goodbye, Aladdin. You were _almost_ a worthy adversary."

"NO!" Iago tore from the observation deck at lightning speed, refusing to stop for Cassim's shouts of warning behind or the impending doom he was racing headlong into, shooting down beyond the cracked ramparts, past the fleeing sentinels and across the cemetery of the battlefield. Aladdin and Mozenrath flew by him on either side, and now he was face-to-face with his old torturer, Jafar. Despite the deadly crackling of the snake staff, his eyes stayed fixed on Jazel's.

"KID! Stop this! Don't do this, Jazel, you don't gotta be a part of this! Stop this, Jazel! Please, STOP!"

The fireball burst from the snake staff and Iago was directly in its path. It raced at him so hot it glowed white instead of crimson. Somewhere in the farthest reaches of his mind, a bit of gray matter chuckled at that color; wasn't the reaper supposed to come dressed all in black? _And sheesh, white after Labor Day! Death's just got no fashion sense._

He had already relived his life's memories about a hundred times in the last couple days, so this time he resolved to shut his eyes and embrace the inevitable, let the pieces fall where they may.

Before long, however, it became evident that the fireball had missed its quarry. Miraculously, the flames fizzled in mid-flight, leaving Iago singed in the face but little worse for the wear. Aladdin and Mozenrath were freed from their shadowy constrictions behind him, Jazel had collapsed to her knees and was proceeding to cry her eyes out, and Jafar - Jafar visibly recoiled and stumbled backward, his body flickering momentarily as he actually seemed to phase _in_ and _out_ of existence.

"Please, no! Don't make me do it!" Jazel sobbed.

"_Iago!_" Jafar hissed. Meeting the parrot's gaze with a look of the utmost detest, he seized Jazel by the arm and teleported the two of them away.

Evidently, that encounter truly frightened Jafar, for the horns of retreat soon sounded from within the swarming masses of the Legion. Iago stared in shock and wonderment as the legionnaires fell back on all fronts. He couldn't conceal a smile. "Good going, Jazel," he chuckled. "So some things in this world _are_ uncorruptible after all."

Aladdin had scarcely managed to pick himself up off the ground when Mozenrath gave a pathetic little moan beside him and rolled over onto his back. The sand coated his face like a layer of stubble, which promised to greet him when at last he stirred from the pensive passage of unconsciousness.

Mozenrath was especially vulnerable in this comatose state, and there would be no time like the present to put an end to the dark practitioner's sinister ways. But Aladdin's eyes aged at the prospect of taking the sorcerer's life. From where the velvety veil of night descended in the east to the sun's retreating glare in the west, the ground was littered with freshly slain corpses. Enough blood had been shed already without adding another notch to the death toll. Furthermore, the thought of taking another man's life so unprovoked seemed repugnant right now to Aladdin and sent specters of compunction flitting across his eyes.

Grimly, he sheathed his scimitar and left Mozenrath to survey the battleground.

The lightning storm that had lacerated the sky followed Jafar and his army across the sidelines, away from the Sentinel's horseshoe-shaped fortifications and into the horizon. The bodies of sentinels and legionnaires alike peppered the land in a red and brown quilt.

By some miracle, they had won. The Legion hadn't been routed, but at least they had driven the enemy back. There should have been celebration. There should have been cheers, fanfare, and drinks all around. Instead, there was deafening silence.

Iago was soaring high above, trying to pick out a familiar face in the lifeless fields when he spotted Aladdin. He tucked back his wings and fell into a dive, swooping in from behind and landing on his shoulder.

"Hey, Al…" he began, but his voice quickly deserted him. What could he say to a man who'd just confronted his long-lost daughter, whom he wanted nothing more than to love and protect, only for her to attempt to subdue and murder him?

"I hate soap operas," Iago muttered out of the blue.

He felt Aladdin's keen eyes on him and was compelled to look away. Instead, he forced himself to meet the man's gaze - and he was taken aback by what he saw. No anger, no hostility, no portrait of resentment and despair. But rather… openness about his feelings, acceptance of who Iago was, and forgiveness for everything he had done in the past.

"What was she like?" Aladdin asked solemnly. Iago instantly understood the question.

"She's a bright little kid. Got an affinity for magic that puts the genie to shame. And you wouldn't believe her imagination! That girl sure bounced some crazy ideas off of me, about dragons, and flying... She can think of the most amazing things right on the spot. She's gentle, and kind… She was my light in the darkness," he answered softly, "and she can still be yours."

Aladdin tore his eyes away and focused long and hard on the ground. Momentarily Iago wondered whether he had said something to upset him, but when he raised a bloodstained sleeve to dab his face, he understood.

"Turn off the waterworks kid, you'll get her back," he assured him.

"I'm sorry," Aladdin said suddenly.

Again, Iago was surprised. "Eh?" he asked. "For what?"

"For being cross with you. For making you feel isolated. For misjudging you, not for the first time in my life," Aladdin sighed. "Jasmine tried to tell me I wasn't being fair to you after the battle at the palace… after you almost gave your life you save us that day. Guess I didn't want to listen to her then. But how can I ignore it now? It was wrong of me to treat you that way, Iago, and I'm sorry for it."

Those words sent shockwaves of joy rippling down his spinal cord to all corners of his body until every last feather was abuzz with delight. He'd always been able to fly, but he'd never felt quite as light as he did now. Iago's heart sang with glorious liberation as yet another of the seeds of self-hatred Jafar had planted melted in the crucible of truth.

Aladdin continued, "It was wrong of me to cast you in the same light as Jafar. And it was wrong of me to hold you accountable for what part you played in Mozenrath's plot years ago. I guess what with everything that's happened to Jasmine, to Jazel, and to Agrabah… I needed someone to focus my anger on, and I picked you. Will you forgive me, Iago?"

Iago smiled. "Anything's possible. I think I might be able to find it in myself to forgive you… with a few stipulations, of course."

Aladdin raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he snorted. "What kind of stipulations?"

"Better travel arrangements for one thing! Next time you people drag me ten thousand miles across a hot, barren desert to see the finer points of a war zone, we fly AIR CARPET. No more of this 'roughing it' garbage the genie keeps trying to feed me. I'm talking FIRST CLASS, hot meals, in-flight movie, and I'd better get one of those little peanut packages or I swear I'm going right back to not forgiving you!"

"_Pets_ fly in the cargo hold, you know," Aladdin remarked.

"That's fine. I'm sure you can bring yourself to part with Abu for a couple of - HEY!"

Aladdin plucked the parrot gently off his shoulder and released him into the air. Iago sputtered as he tried earnestly to think of a comeback, but ultimately had to live with being outwitted just this once.

"How's my father?" Aladdin asked.

"Not half as snide as you," muttered Iago.

"Go to him, Iago. Keep him company. Keep him safe. There's still a lot of work to be done here," the man said, turning a weary eye to the battlefield, whose grave inhabitants would never behold the sparkle of another dawn or the glow of another sunset. "There are bodies to be counted, rites to be read… and preparations to be made. Make no mistake about it. We haven't seen the last of Jafar."

"You got it, Al."

His spirits soared to dizzying heights and he followed in their wake. Through the hazy, smoking fumes of battle, he could barely discern Genie, Rasoul, and the masses of sentinels milling grimly about the graveyard. They were the heirs of a nightmare, and if Aladdin's gut was right, they had no time for celebration with Jafar's counterattack still looming on the horizon.

But in spite of troubled times yet to come, Iago's soul glowed like warm sunshine through the mist. A beacon of joy shone in his heart and obliterated the agents of darkness Jafar had implanted inside of him, sent the last scraps of self-doubt and loathing fleeing from his body in a deluge of happiness. The sum of all his worries and woes receded into nothingness, insignificant in the vast, starry sky.

As he adjusted his bearing to circle back and return to Cassim atop the fortress, he happened upon a perplexing sight: a rider dressed in a jet black cloak and seated upon a stallion the color of midnight was making his way across the field. He darted along swiftly yet stealthily, clinging to the perimeter of the Sentinel's fortifications and never diverging from the enclosing walls, wrapping the blanket of night around himself to avoid attention. To any of the troops on the ground the rider would have appeared as a fleeting shadow, but from a bird's eye view he was more than obvious. Curiously, Iago dipped a wing for a closer look.

Who was this mysterious individual and what was his cause for secrecy? As the horseman neared the fortress proper, he made the mistake of looking up... and Iago found himself with more answers than he would have liked to know.

The symptoms of the Bloodlust spell were impossible to misdiagnose. Burning red eyes flashed up at him behind amber-colored locks while the hallmark insignia of the Serpentine legion bore testament to the man's true allegiance. Iago and Cassim had their concerns about Leon. Now it was evident their suspicions had been well placed.

He swallowed a lump in the back of his throat. As the Sentinel's enormous portcullis groaned open to grant Leon passage into Cryngaine, Iago shot upward to deliver the bad news to Cassim.

It seemed they had found their traitor. He only hoped his best friend wouldn't do anything rash.

---

"ARE YOU INSANE?" Iago fired off at the top of his lungs. "Are you out of your mind? Have you _totally_ lost it? This is rash, Cassim, even for you!"

"So sue me, Iago. If what you've told me is true, then it's a problem that needs to be dealt with as quickly as possible."

"Cassim, this is your good judgment calling. GET A GRIP!"

Their voices echoed up and down the gilded main street of Cryngaine. It was the same road they had traversed days earlier on their way to the Imperial Palace, only now the lustrous avenue was dappled with scorch marks where the lightning from Jafar's electrical maelstrom had kissed the metal. The rich lawns and monuments all around bore similar damage, and as they walked past some of the harder hit areas Iago felt the feathers on his back prickle and stand on end. The smell of smoke was noticeable in the air, and from the orange glow in the distance off to their right, it seemed likely that part of the city was on fire.

Unfortunately, since most everyone not drafted into the army had been evacuated, there was no one around to put it out. Though on the up side, there was also no one around to eavesdrop on their conversation.

It was a good thing too, because Iago was being rather loud at the moment. "This is stupid, Cassim! We shoulda let Al know so he could set up a dragnet or something. We shouldn't be out scouring the city for him by ourselves!"

"Set up a dragnet... and give Leon time to escape? Besides, I would hardly call it 'scouring the city' when we have such a prominent trail to follow," said Cassim, gesturing to the path of bloodstained hoofprints which ran straight down the middle of the road.

"Alright, Cassim, so you've got him caught red-footed. But we still shoulda told one of the others!"

"That's a good idea, Iago. Why don't you go do that?" Cassim replied icily.

Iago glanced back over his shoulder to the Sentinel where they had come from. He felt trepidation surge in his veins at the thought of leaving Cassim's side. Aladdin had asked him to stay with his father and keep him safe, hadn't he? And besides, he couldn't just abandon his friend and partner to face the danger alone!

Slamming his head into a brick wall seemed very appealing right now. Why oh _why_ had he made the mistake of going straight to Cassim with his discovery instead of letting one of the others know _first?_

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! C'mon, Cassim, what would Al say if he knew you were doing this? He wants you to stay safe, take it easy, be at peace-"

"Perpetual peace is found only in a graveyard," Cassim said quietly.

"That's exactly where you're gonna end up if you don't quit acting this way!" Iago yelled.

"So be it. I love the name of honor more than I fear the face of death."

"For cryin' out loud, Cassim, do you even listen to yourself anymore!"

They came at last to the Imperial Palace. Framed in the darkness of the night, the grandiose tower seemed taller and more imposing than ever before, though not even it had been able to weather the storm undamaged; from the way its blackened apogee smoked and crumbled, it seemed the monolithic structure had been turned into an unwilling lightning rod.

"The lightning-struck tower," Iago whispered frightfully. "Do you have any idea what a bad omen that is?"

"Iago, I'm not turning back."

"Look at yourself!" Iago cried. "You're standing there talking about death like there's some kind of purpose behind it - like there's some sort of honor in it! Trust me, Cassim, I know what death is - I've been at its doorstep too many damn times! Heck, for the longest time, I _wanted_ to die, and it didn't dawn on me 'til recently how _stupid_ I was for ever desiring that! Life's the most precious gift there is, Cassim. Sacrifice is one thing, but don't throw it away needlessly!"

"I'm not coming here to die, Iago."

"No, of course not! You've coming here because you're all fired up about Leon. You suspected something was off about him, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt, and now it turns out he's been in bed with the enemy all along. No, you're coming here for revenge, Cassim! And you're too blinded by passion to realize what path your fate is taking and whose blood will be spilled to seal it!"

Cassim stopped in his tracks and turned such a cold eye on Iago that he felt a shiver slither down his spine.

"What would you have me do, Iago? Turn around and confront Aladdin with this news so HE can fight Leon in my place? No, Iago, I WON'T do that. I've been on the sidelines for my son's entire life, never there for him when he needed me. WHERE WAS I when he was growing up an orphan on the streets? WHERE WAS I when Jafar came back from the dead, kidnapped Jazel, and almost slaughtered Jasmine? Even today when Aladdin was down on the battlefield fighting for his life, WHERE WAS I THEN? You say you made an error in judgment and you've only just realized it? Well SO HAVE I. My mistake was not being there for my son when he needed my love and support, and silencing Leon is my way of making things right."

"You think getting yourself killed is going to make things right! You idiot! How do you think Aladdin's going to take your death? How do you think _I'm_ going to take it?" Iago choked.

"I'm not coming here to die," Cassim reaffirmed.

"You're injured, Cassim. You've got a bad shoulder. You're hardly at the top of your form. And you're going up against an enemy who's healthier than you, younger than you, and a heck of a lot fiercer than you what with the power of the Bloodlust spell!"

"Oh, rest assured, I can be pretty fierce myself, Iago. You can be on it."

The sanguine hoofprints ended at the door to the Imperial Palace, where a monstrous stallion snorted and strained impatiently against his tether. As they set foot through the portal onto the atramentous black tile within, Iago felt as though he were teetering over the edge of a precipice, feeling the frigid air whistle past his head as he plunged into its sightless depths, no hope of ever going back.

It was colder in here today, and darker, and quieter too. There were no guards to escort them through the flickering torchlight, no rabid monarchs to entertain. A fleeting draft pushed around the air enough for Iago to get a good whiff of its fetid aroma: the oppressive stench of misery still lingered from the other day with just a hint of something new - something he couldn't quite put his finger on. The click of Cassim's footfalls echoed off the walls of ceiling with a foreboding quality.

"Look," Cassim said suddenly. The doors to the throne room were flung wide open. Daggers of blood trickled down the woodwork from a pair of ruby handprints stained upon the handles.

"You know how cracked up you are? You're the King of Thieves, you've got a rap sheet the size of the Sahara, and here you are waltzing right into the seat of law and order for all the Seven Deserts. Calliphin was ready to throw you to the wolves when he realized who you were. Boy, if anybody catches you trespassing in here, they're gonna lock you up and throw away the key!"

Cassim said nothing, but continued adamantly through the double doors into the dim throne room. Iago sighed and shook his head.

"Common sense and I used to be on speaking terms before I met you. You're really sticking your head in the lion's mouth here, Cassim. It's not too late to turn back-"

"Ah, but it is too late!" Leon's slick, confident voice battered them from all directions, reverberating off the tall walls and pillars of the throne room. "It's too late for all of you."

Their mutual enemy probed them with a smirk atop the royal dais. Seated upon Alhazred's imposing throne with his cloak draped regally about him, Leon was a threatening sight. The colors of Jafar's banner came to life in the glistening red blood streaked across the jet black garment, accentuated by the crimson crackling of his eyes. He stood as if to welcome them, shedding the cloak and outstretching his arms in greeting, revealing the brawny fruit of the bloodlust spell bulging through the leather of his jerkin. An instinctive wave of revulsion pounded against Iago's stomach as he digested the traitor in true form.

"We just keep bumping into each other, don't we, my friends? You're right, Father of Aladdin. It is a small world."

"I knew there was something wrong about you from the day we met," Cassim spat. "Tell me, Leon, were you one of Jafar's pawns when we crossed paths in D'jel, or have you only become one of his dogs recently?"

"I've always been a loyal servant to my master," Leon smiled sickly. "I do what he asks of me, and I find it gets me far."

"Farther into hell is more like it," Cassim sneered, sliding his scimitar out of its scabbard as he surveyed Leon with detest. "They say the innermost layer is reserved for traitors like you."

"I welcome you with arms open and you come after me with arms drawn. What are you thinking, old man? Jafar has seen fit to bless me with his power today. You can't possibly hope to best me in a fight."

"Darn shame you weren't one of the ones who keeled over and died when he put that spell on you. The world would be a much better place without you," Iago said sharply.

Leon's eyes twinkled. "Trust me," he scoffed, "I'm much too important for him to let me die. I've done him great service today! My master will be most pleased with the information I've delivered. The Order of the Lamp has been a thorn in Jafar's side for years now, and he's _thrilled_ at the chance to ransack its headquarters."

Iago felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. Beside him, Cassim paled. "You eavesdropped on our conversation the other night. You told Jafar where to go to strike at the heart of the Order."

The traitor laughed throatily to himself and took a step forward down the dais. A memory three months old suddenly danced in front of Iago's eyes: the memory of Leon grinning ear to ear with triumph, sizing him up like a piece of meat on the eve of the Battle of D'jel. Now he stalked the parrot again with predatory eyes, only this time Iago had courage enough to defiantly meet his gaze.

"Yes, my master will be most pleased to know that I've uncovered the whereabouts of your precious Order. The Legion's on their way there now, you know, heading back to the Den of the Forty Thieves to annihilate the resistance once and for all! As I understand it, some of the Royal Guard who defected to Jafar's side also participated in Rasoul's raid on that cave years and years ago. They know where it is and they know the password." Silently, Leon mouthed the words 'Open Sesame.'

By now Cassim was ghost white, the scimitar buckling in his hands like the reins of a mad horse as Leon explained himself. Iago could sympathize. His mouth was suddenly dryer than ever before, and he could never recall a time when his heart thumped so loudly against his ribcage.

"My master will be pleased." Leon licked his lips. "And when I _kill_ you, Cassim, and bring this noisy parrot back to Jafar, I'll be doubly rewarded! He was terribly annoyed when you escaped, you know," he smiled at Iago. "He murdered half the Royal Guard after you and the genie made your great escape, and he ordered all his agents across the Seven Deserts to be on the lookout for you. Somehow, I knew I'd be the one to track you down again."

"Again?" Iago croaked?

Leon was nonplussed, stroking the hilt of his saber with a casual sort of grace, almost as if discussing such acts of treachery and espionage in the middle of the Imperial Palace were no uncommon thing for him. "You think it was a coincidence you were captured at the Battle of D'jel? You think it was a coincidence we met on the same day Jafar caught you?"

Iago trembled with horror and rage at what Leon was suggesting. His vision swam with the pain of his capture on the streets of D'jel, of being carted off to Agrabah in a sweltering cage, of days without water, weeks without food, and never a sweet dream at night to grant him reprieve from the hell of the day, of blacking out from the sheer agony of what he was forced to endure, of silver daggers, of chopped-off talons, of three long months being crucified to a wall.

Color returned to Cassim's cheeks. His face flushed with the fury of a seething volcano ready to spill the elemental wrath of the earth over all creation. "Are you saying...?"

"Jafar was outraged when he conquered Agrabah and realized the parrot was no longer there, so much so that he entrusted Iago's description to every spy at his disposal. Of course I recognized you at D'jel, especially after you made it abundantly clear how you and Jafar used to be on familiar terms," Leon laughed. The smooth metal face of his sword glinted silver through the foggy light. "The reason Jafar was there to capture you was because _I told him where you were._"

"You betrayed me, you betrayed my son, you betrayed my friend, and you betrayed my granddaughter. You're everything I hate most about the world. You're the slime of the human race," Cassim seethed. "You turned you back on your PEOPLE, on your COUNTRY, on your HUMANITY. You've been an agent of the enemy all along, and mark my words, YOU'LL REGRET CROSSING ME BY THE TIME I'M DONE WITH YOU!"

Eyes ablaze, Cassim launched himself at Leon. Iago took to the air immediately and put as much distance between himself and his embattled friend as possible. For once, there was no fear in his heart - only searing, unmitigated rage. For all that Leon and his ilk had done to him and the people he knew and loved, Iago was more infuriated than he could ever recall being in his life. But he knew better than to be in Cassim's way during a battle, especially when his friend was fighting with a handicap.

Leon was caught off-guard by Cassim's sudden advance but narrowly countered it. The saber was instantly brought up to intercept the fast-approaching scimitar, which had found a target for itself squarely in the cleft of Leon's neck. The swords crossed in mid-air, filling the throne room with a high-pitched clang that resounded off the marble archways and pillars, a flaming siren to mark the hatred that had desolated them all, the herald of an uncertain future.

Cassim had acted with haste and so was unprepared for the parry. Leon's blade slipped off of the scimitar and whipped around for a horizontal slash to the stomach. It whistled hungrily as it pierced the air, and Iago could vaguely remember nearly being on the receiving end of a similar strike when he was yet a prisoner in Jafar's laboratory. The memory of Jafar and the realization of Leon's treachery brought Iago's blood to a boil, and he was sure Cassim's feelings concerning the backstabber were just as passionate. However, his friend's emotions did not betray his concentration as he brought his scimitar down to deflect the swipe, just as Leon had done seconds before.

His opponent saw the scimitar poised to block, and in a move that startled Iago and Cassim alike, he reversed the direction of the saber, pivoting in place three hundred sixty degrees to strike the opposite side of Cassim's body. Cassim gasped at the unforeseen counter and leapt back instinctively. The saber did not land the mortal blow it had been intended to, but it still sliced a long, thin gash across HIS man's torso.

The fabric of Cassim's shirt, torn open by the sharp point of the saber, turned a deep crimson red from the blood that flowed freely from the open cut. His face was a contortion of pain, and he breathed in shallow, shuddering breaths. Cassim steeled himself against the agony and exploded into another flurry of attacks.

The scimitar shone a fiery bronze in the golden torchlight as it assailed Leon's defenses again and again in a rapid battery. The estranged grunts and anguished groans of the two combatants were drowned out by the clinking of metal against metal and the scuffle of their feet as they danced across the midnight tile. Hatred dripped off Cassim's face like sweat as he stared into the eyes of his family's tormentor and coalesced with the blood of his injuries on the cold throne room floor. But in spite of his resolve, he didn't seem to be making any progress in penetrating Leon's guard.

For all the effort he was putting out, Leon was little worse for the wear. His breath was ragged as he devoted all his concentration to parrying and dodging, but he still remained unscathed by Cassim's sword. The fight seemed to be much more excruciating for Cassim, who was visibly tormented by the slash to his stomach and the blow to his shoulder; distantly, Iago wondered which would he would give into first, then scolded himself angrily for his incredulity.

Iago had never seen Cassim lose a swordfight.

But then again, he had never seen Cassim in a swordfight quite this desperate.

Slowly but surely, Cassim's onslaught pushed Leon back from the center of the room to the wall. The European's eyes flashed at this turn of events, embittered by his poor strategic position, but unwilling to let his enemy get the upper hand. Acting quickly, he ducked beneath an oncoming swing and thrust his saber at his opponent's midsection, aiming to skewer him on the sword's deadly tip. Cassim had predicted the retaliation and sidestepped, allowing the saber to slip easily past him. He survived the strike, but the momentum he had gained in attacking Leon was lost, and he was put back on the defensive.

The saber twirled in midair and blasted left for an offensive on Cassim's flank. Cassim scowled and easily brought his scimitar to block, but in a repeat performance of a familiar move, Leon reversed the sword's course, turning what had been an assault on the man's left side into a sneak attack on his right. This time Cassim was ready for the tactic, and before Leon could react he dropped to his knees, stuck out a foot, and spun, sweeping his opponent's legs out from under him as the saber created ripples in the air overhead. Leon was sent flying forward, but he managed to regain his balance and landed nimbly on his feet. He turned quickly in place, his weapon glinting a menacing silver as it punctured the air in preparation for a fuming counter-attack - but it was in no place to intercept Cassim's powerful kick, which landed painfully on the side of Leon's jaw, snapping his head to the side.

Once more, Cassim was in command of the battle, and he used that power to his advantage, attacking straightaway before Leon had a chance to regain his senses. Eyes radiant with enmity, he bellowed a fierce cry that filled the expansive chamber with the totality of his hatred, sending fire nipping down Iago's spine. Furiously, he charged forward, the scimitar lunging in a wide arc above his head for a crushing downward chop. A dazed and dazzled Leon barely managed to bring his sword up to deflect, but in doing so, he left the rest of his body unwisely undefended. A well-timed knee to the gut sent him flailing backward, choking and sputtering, the wind well knocked out of him.

Cassim's anger had reached a crescendo now as he charged forth to beset Leon again, the animosity he held for the other man defined in every twitch of his body, in every huff of his breath. The culmination of all the burning hatred that had poisoned him since learning what tragedies had befallen his family flowed in a molten river from the depths of his soul to the edge of his blade. Tears streamed down Cassim's dirty face, though whether those tears were caused by sorrow, contempt, pain, or an amalgamation of the three, there was no way to tell. Iago choked back a sob before realizing his own vision was similarly blurred, and he blinked furiously to clear his eyes, unwilling to look away.

The scimitar climbed high a second time, where it was poised to end Leon's life in one swift, shuddering downward stroke. Both men watched it closely as it ascended to its apogee, deviant destinies brought together by corruption and treachery set to be divided by the clean cut of the blade. Then, the sword fell - gradually at first, but persistently gaining speed as it plunged toward Leon's unguarded throat.

Leon's eyes widened in the brazen glimmer of the fast-approaching sword. As Death and Cassim were on the verge of claiming his life, he seemed startled, incensed, and more than a little reckless. Then, in a fleeting instant, his dazzlement was washed away, replaced with an aura of determination and haughty supremacy. He regained his composure from his earlier missteps and raised his sword to parry.

It was a futile effort; the scimitar had more mass than the long, narrow shaft of the saber, and with the power it had gained in its freefall, there was no way Leon could hope to hold it at bay. Any attempt to block would have been easily overpowered - that is, if Leon's goal had been to block.

Smiling smugly, he let the saber's hilt slip from his sweaty palms as he rushed it up to deflect the scimitar. Momentum carried the sword upward to where it would have been had Leon stood his ground and held onto the weapon. Cassim was unprepared for the distraction and found himself incapable of adjusting the angle of the strike. Resultantly, the scimitar collided with the saber in midair, swatting it out of the way without Leon's muscle to back it up and sending it reeling across the room.

Leon did not hesitate in answering opportunity's knock. In a desperate move, he ducked beneath Cassim's arm as he uselessly assailed the now ownerless saber. He appeared on Cassim's wing milliseconds later, disarmed, but not disjointed. With a gleeful, twisted grin, he compacted his hand into a fist and began savagely wailing on his nemesis' injured shoulder.

Cassim cried out and staggered away, his knees buckling and threatening to collapse inward upon themselves. His scimitar fell from his hand as an inferno shot down his arm and throughout the rest of his body, leaving him defenseless against Leon's ceaseless attack. He tried to back up, to shield his shoulder, to counter-attack, but to no avail - Leon continued to ruthlessly siege the wound, throwing the full force of his body and the full potency of his wrath into each and every punch until finally, Cassim was left writhing on the floor, tears juxtaposed next to sweat on his face, a mournful, tormented howl pouring from his lips.

A menacing look fell over Leon's visage, and his eyes took on a sinister gleam. And Iago could only watch helplessly as he pulled a knife from inside his tunic and approached Cassim's pained form from behind, the mask of a murderer pulled over him.

"No," Iago said, his voice horror-stricken, his hope fled.

And then, in a single moment of clarity, Leon was gone, vanished from the face of existence. Where he had stood, there was only Jafar, grinning down at Cassim with snakelike eyes and a crooked smile, a spectral light dancing across his features. In his hand was clutched a curved, blood-drenched dagger. He laughed with brash superiority as his gaze traveled from the deadly weapon to the defenseless man lying before him. And with a triumphant smile, he raised the dagger above his head in preparation for the killing blow-

"NO!"

Iago shot from his perch on the rafters like a bat out of hell, the sum total of all the smoldering anger he had ever known in his life coursing through him. The sights and sounds of the world all around him were blurred, though whether that was because of the speed at which he was flying or all the pent-up emotions being pumped through his body, there was no way to tell. All Iago could think of was Cassim, his partner, his comrade, his best friend for so much of his life, about to be murdered unmercifully by that traitor!

He would not let Cassim die.

He WOULD NOT let Cassim die!

HE WOULDN'T!

As he swooped sharply downward, his wings flared back, filling the room with an angry screech as the air passed above and beneath them. Jafar looked up at once, the expression of maddened fury plastered across every inch of his face insignificant compared to the rage that had reached a boiling point deep within the oven of Iago's heart. The parrot screamed a tumultuous war cry as he barreled ahead unthinkingly, the most volatile feelings he had ever felt finding their way fluidly to his throat and voice box. Peace was in a place far from him. Fear was a word he did not know.

Jafar threshed the dagger dangerously to ward him off, but the threat of death was lost on Iago, who flung himself directly at the blade. Distantly, he felt the edge carve a ravine in his underside. There was no shock, however, no pain to speak of; Iago's mind was too eroded to comprehend such mortal sensations.

He blazed onward at a scorching pace, uncoiling his talons as he neared his quarry, then burying them in the menace's eye sockets. The dagger slipped from Jafar's hands, which immediately shot up to nurse the ghastly wound, validated by a horrified scream. When they were lowered again, it was as if a mask had been pulled of: there no longer stood Jafar, omnipotent and impervious to the world around him, but a very startled and anguished Leon with blood cascading down his face. Iago's jaw dropped at the sudden transformation, and his gaze wandered to his claws, now covered in a familiar red coat.

Leon took a step back, then another, then another, then at last tripped over his feet and went sprawling onto his backside. Feverishly, Iago tipped his wings to dip back around for another attack, but Cassim was up and about again, scimitar at the ready. Even more enraged than before, he charged the partially blinded figure lying immobile on the tile in a scarlet pool.

A painful moan escaped Leon's lips as he lay there breathless and twitching, his eyes bleeding profusely, his vision all but shattered. Still, the sound of Cassim's approach rang loud in his ears, and he somehow managed to rise to his feet and retrieve his saber from where it had come to rest nearby.

Cassim slammed the scimitar downward with brutal force, aiming to score a fatal blow and end the battle once and for all. Leon's back was to the wall as he precariously raised the saber to block the last-ditch assault.

The swords crashed together with a clamorous wail, each blade latching onto its partner in a death hug, neither one willing to let go. In that moment, the battle ceased to be a duel of strategies and devolved into a naked war of attrition, one man's muscle versus the other's in a deadly competition of strength. Cassim put all his might behind the scimitar until his face glowed red and the veins bulged from his neck, but he gained no ground while Leon reinforced the saber with the entirety of his earthly clout.

They remained that way for ages, neither one willing to capitulate to the other despite the injuries that marred both their bodies. It had come down to this. Nothing else that had occurred in the course of the fight mattered anymore - only the force of their wills and the limits of their endurance. Resolution was aflame in the pits of their eyes as they stared one another down between crossed blades.

And then, as quickly as the battle had begun, it was over.

Leon was overpowered by Cassim's aggression. Finally, the last vestiges of his vigor evaporated from him, and his arms folded inward as his enemy's strength drove him back. Resignation was written across his face as he went tumbling to the floor, exhaustion overtaking his body, the saber landing passively at his side. As the realization of his defeat entered his mind, he shut his eyes tightly; when he opened them again, he did not need to look far to find Cassim's sword pressed against his throat.

Cassim regarded the broken man with flushed and glowing anger as he struggled to keep his hands from shaking. "You - you son of a bitch," he said hotly, his voice broken through the strain of his emotions. "You betrayed me. You've betrayed us all!"

In spite of all that had transpired before and all that was confronting him now, Leon exhaled quietly and allowed all the tension in his body to dissolve.

"I am merely a servant. I did only what my master bade me do," he replied with remarkable calmness.

"Everything that's happened to Aladdin... to Jasmine... to my granddaughter, Jazel... to every innocent man, woman, and child in the Seven Deserts who's been affected by this sick reign of terror - it all rests on your shoulders. You're bear the weight of all of this! You've been helping Jafar all along, TRAITOR!"

Leon looked up at Cassim through red-tinged eyes. "You've won, old man," he said remorselessly, his voice strangely at peace. "Now run that scimitar through my throat. Slice that jugular vein clear open. Watch me bleed here, helpless on the ground like a pathetic animal. Kill me. You know it's what you want to do."

"I'll make you pay for what you've done," Cassim whispered, his eyes glinting dangerously. He quivered as he stared down into the face of man who had brought so much pain to his family. With an ominous glare that all but promised death, his hands tightened around the scimitar's hilt.

Time stopped.

Anger permeated from every pour of Cassim's body as he appraised the living corpse of the man who had betrayed him. His breath was shallow as he drew air in, and the muscles in his face twitched gravely in anticipation of the fate that awaited Leon on the scimitar's keen point. Indeed, Cassim almost seemed to lick his lips in foretaste of the traitor's much deserved demise. But although his mouth was angled downward in an angry scowl, his jaw still hung open, unready, unsure, and his eyes likewise flickered with hesitation.

Iago passed through the stale air to settle on his dearest friend's shoulder. "Cassim?" he offered tentatively, giving his benefactor a nudge.

Cassim heaved a heavy sigh that caused his whole body to quake, the totality of his zeal being exhaled from him with the oxygen in his lungs. Over the next several seconds, the scimitar fell from its portentous position at Leon's throat until it came to rest at his side. His gaze followed the blade as it traveled downward, apparently incapable of allowing his wavering eyes to meet Iago's wide ones.

"_Why?_" gasped Iago with a pang of distress. The betrayal in his voice was palpable as it fell coldly upon the ears of both the dominant and the dominated.

"I can't... I can't kill him, Iago."

"_Why not?_"

"I can't bring myself to murder a defenseless man," Cassim responded, though his voice was chillingly empty. "I'm sorry."

Iago was frozen to the spot by an icy dread that swelled deep within his soul. Distraughtly, he strained to understand why Cassim was suddenly so reluctant to allow Leon to die, but he found himself unable to grapple with the feeling of treachery that question roused in him. No longer did he feel angry; his anger had crystallized the moment Leon had been vanquished and it had seemed his deceits were at an end. Now, Cassim had only to swing the proverbial hammer to shatter all of Iago's grief-stricken pain in a single blow. By not finishing off Leon, Cassim was refusing to free him from that pain.

"Please, Cassim!" Iago pleaded despairingly, more sincere at that moment than he could ever recall being in his life. "You can't let him walk away from this! Have you forgotten where his loyalties lie? Have you forgotten everything he and all the traitorous filth like him have done to us? They kidnapped your granddaughter, Cassim! They tore her from her parents, brainwashed her, and turned her into a living, breathing puppet! They murdered the man who was your son and they nearly murdered your daughter-in-law, and gods, Cassim, don't tell me you've already forgotten what this monster did to _me!_

"He doesn't deserve your mercy! He's one of Jafar's pawns! Put aside the fact that he doesn't have a sword right now; not five minutes ago, he did, and he was trying to kill us both! Can't you see what he is? He's a fiend! He's an abomination! He's base! He's foul! For everything he's done to us, he deserves to die! He has earned his..."

In the middle of the sentence, Iago's voice deserted him. He had heard those words before, and he had heard them far too often for his liking. They had applied to him. _He_ had been the fiend, the abomination, the base one, the foul one. In his past, he had bowed to Jafar's every whim and ambition, done everything in his power to help realize the vizier's reprehensible aim of absolute, tyrannical domination over Agrabah. He had been the pawn. He had been the traitor. And with that in mind, he had no right to beg for Leon's execution as punishment for crimes he himself had committed. To do so was two-faced beyond any hope of deliverance.

Yet when he looked into Leon's eyes, he did not see a reflection of himself staring back up at him. _Why not? _He was guilty of each and every wrongdoing he had accused Leon of. At one point, he had been just as corrupt as Jafar, aware but unmindful of righteousness, integrity, and human compassion, driven toward a life of villainy by a destructive thirst for power. He had sided with everything he knew was wrong and turned his back on his kingdom, his people, his friends. Hadn't he proposed murdering Jasmine as a means of seating Jafar on the throne? Hadn't he been a willing accomplice in all of the vizier's efforts to murder Aladdin?

No, he realized with a start. He hadn't acted on Jafar's behalf during the battle to destroy the black lamp. In that instance, he had actually _saved_ Aladdin's life - though his intervention was admittedly late in coming.

But the fact remained that he had put his life on the line for the sake of doing the right thing. On that day, he had abandoned Jafar and left his malicious ways behind. And although he was certainly at fault for not doing the right thing from time to time - when he had left Cassim to face death alone at D'jel, for instance - he had not actively _strived_ to be evil since that fateful fight above the churning lava pit.

_People change, Iago!_ Jasmine's words came rushing back to him with the force of a sledgehammer. Iago had been so quick to disregard them that he had never considered what they really meant or how they might apply to him.

It was as if a blindfold had been lifted and the truth was revealed to him for the very first time. There _was_ a cataclysmic difference between Leon and himself. Iago had let go of his misguided ways and done the right thing out of his own volition. Leon was just as treacherous as Iago had been, but unlike the good parrot, he refused to turn away from the path of evil he had chosen - even at death's door with a sword against his throat. That alone was an enormous distinction between the two, and it was certainly enough to separate Iago from the fiend, the abomination, the base and foul enemy spread out on the floor below.

At last, he thought he understood what Jasmine and Cassim had tried to tell him. It wasn't his fault. It had never been his fault. He had been lied to, confused, and abused by Jafar, and like a fool, he had listened to every disparaging word that snake had to say about him, given the nod to every self-destructive thought planted within his skull. In the tortuously forlorn atmosphere of the laboratory, he had really had no choice, but since his escape, he had needlessly deceived and detested himself. What was the point of it all? There was no basis for him to harbor such personal hatred. In a sense, he had been carrying out Jafar's will all this time by continuing to punish himself.

Such a revelation would have ignited a fiery self-loathing deep inside him before, but in this interlude of clarity, his only sensations were joy and relief as a backbreaking burden was mercifully lifted. He understood now. He understood Jafar had not shown him the light, but instead thrown him deeper than ever before into the darkness. He understood every treasured word Jasmine had spoken to him had been genuine. He even understood why Cassim could not bring himself to end Leon's life, although the double-crosser's treachery more than qualified him for death. He understood. He understood everything.

Cassim mistook the nature of the tears that darkened Iago's eyes, gritted his teeth, and compelled himself to look away. "I'm sorry, Iago!" he moaned, guilt-stricken. "Forgive me!"

Smiling wickedly, Leon's gaze wandered back and forth between Iago and Cassim. He gave a curt chuckle and blustered, "Funny, I never would have expected a bleeding heart from the King of Thieves."

"Shut up," came Cassim's icy reply.

"Never would've expected him to be quite so stupid, either," he chortled, his vicious grin widening even further. "Goodbye, father of Aladdin!" And with that remark, his eyes refocused on something - or someone - standing directly behind Cassim.

A shadow fell across Cassim's features. Iago gave him an almost invisible nod, and they both spun around at once, the scimitar poised to confront whatever enemy was standing there - but it was too late.

Cassim's tormented scream echoed through the porticos and from column to column within the broad confines of the throne room. He doubled over, dropping Iago from his shoulder with a lurch, the scimitar sliding like dead weight from his fingers and clattering forgotten to the floor. His hands trembled as they made their way mechanically to his midsection. When he pulled them away again, they were painted with blood. His legs crumpled under the impossible burden of his injuries, and he fell shuddering to his knees. Leon's dagger had been picked up and driven barbarically through his back. It entered his body just below his left shoulder, piercing the heart and lung before exiting messily from his chest, a sadistic crimson splattered across the tip.

As Cassim's eyes shifted in and out of focus and he heaved his final earthly breaths, Leon laughed derisively at him from his seat short ways away. And staring down at the dying man with an equally mocking smile, the gloating face of Leon's master, Sultan Abdul Alhazred.

---

**A/N:** You thought it was over. You thought I'd quit the fanfiction business. But no! I return to the craft at last with a brand new chapter hot off the presses! I apologize for putting this story on hold for so long, but I've had a nasty case of writer's block for the last year or so, and what with World of Warcraft sucking up my time, well... I never was any good at making a deadline. In my defense, this was an extraordinarily difficult chapter to write. I can't help but feel I've allowed certain characters in this fic to wander out of character in the last couple chapters, so I put extra effort into bringing their personalities, as well as the story itself, back on track.

The most challenging part of the chapter to write was probably Aladdin's speech before the troops. I've never been all that extraordinary a motivational writer, so I spent days pouring over sources, trying to come up with something the slightest bit compelling. It ends up being one part Independence Day, one part Braveheart, two parts Winston Churchill, two parts Shakespeare, and three parts sweat and elbow grease on my behalf. Overall, I'm proud with how everything came together.

I make no promises as to when the final two chapters of this story will be posted. Rest assured, I'll have them out... eventually.


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